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TREASURE ISLAND 


THE BLACK ARROW 


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THE WORKS 


OF 


ROBEKT LOUIS STEVENSON 

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TREASURE ISLAND 
THE BLACK ARROW 




AHRANGEj, 




SCRIBNER 



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THE JEFFERSON PRESS 


BOSTON 


NEW YORK 


F1»C. 

;uH i iS£ii' 


CONTENTS 


TREASURE ISLAND 

PAGE 

Part I— The Old Buccaneer 1 

Part II— The Sea Cook 64 

Part III— My Shore Adventure 102 

Part IV— The Stockade 197 

Part V— My Sea Adventure 173 

Part VI— Captain Silver 225 


THE BLACK ARROW 

Prologue 1 

Book 1— The Two Lads 23 

Book 2— The Moat House 94 

Book 3— My Lord Forham 142 

Book 4— The Disguise 192 

Book 6— Crookback 265 




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So 

S, L. O., 

AN AMERICAN GENTLEMAN, 

IN ACCORDANCE WITH WHOSE CLASSIC TASTE 
THE FOLLOWING NARRATIVE HAS BEEN DESIGNED, 

IT IS NOW, IN RETURN FOR NUMEROUS DELIGHTFUL HOURS, 
AND WITH THE KINDEST WISHES 

ZleUlcateli 

BT HIS AFFECTIONATE FRIEND, 


THE AUTHOR 


TO THE HESITATIHO PURCHASER 

If sailor tales to sailor tunes. 

Storm and adventure, heat and eotd. 
If schooners, islands, and maroons 
And Buccaneers and huried Oold, 
And all the old romance, retold 
Exactly in the ancient way. 

Can please, as me they pleased of old, 
The wiser younysters of to-day: 

—So be it, and fall on ! If not. 

If studious youth no longer crane. 

His ancient appetites forgot, 

Kingston, or Ballantyne the brave. 

Or Cooper of the wood and wave ; 

So be it, also I And may I 
And all my pirates share the grave 
Where these and their creations lie/ 



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1 



I 

TREASURE ISLAND 

part I 

THE OLD BUCCANEER 

■ CHAPTER I 

THE OLD SEA DOG AT THE ADMIRAL BENBOW " 

►Squire Trelawney, Dr. Livesey, and the rest of 
I these gentlemen having asked me to write down the 
^ whole particulars about Treasure Island, from the begin- 
ning 10 the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings 
of the island, and that only because there is still treas- 
, ure not yet lifted, I take up my pen in the year of grace 
17 — , and go back to the time when my father kept the 
‘^Admiral Benbow " inn, and the brown old seaman, with 
. the sabre cut, first took up his lodging under our roof. 

' I remember him as if it were yesterday, as he came 
plodding to the inn door, his sea chest following behind 
him in a hand-barrow ; a tall, strong, heavy, nut-brown 
’ man ; his tarry pigtail falling over the shoulders of his 

K 

soiled blue coat ; his hands ragged and scarred, with 
I black, broken nails ; and the sabre cut across one cheek. 


2 


TREASURE ISLAND 


a dirty, livid white. I remember him looking round 
the cove and whistling to himself as he did so, and then 
breaking out in that old sea-song that he sang so often 
afterwards : — 

“ Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest — 

Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum I ” 

in the high, old tottering voice that seemed to have 
been tuned and broken at the capstan bars. Then he 
rapped on the door with a bit of stick like a handspike 
that he carried, and when my father appeared, called 
roughly for a glass of rum. This, when it was brought 
to him, he drank slowly, like a connoisseur, lingering 
on the taste, and still looking about him at the clifFs 
and up at our signboard. 

“This is a handy cove,” says he, at length ; “ and a 
pleasant sittyated grog-shop. Much company, mate ?” 

My father told him no, very little company, the more 
was the pity. 

“ Well, then,” said he, “this is the berth for me. 
Here you, matey,” he cried to the man who trundled 
the barrow ; “ bring up alongside and help up my chest. 
I’ll stay here a bit,” he continued. “ I’m a plain man ; 
rum and bacon and eggs is what I want, and that head 
up there for to watch ships off. What you moughi 
call me ? You mought call me captain. Oh, I see 
what youTe at — there ; ” and he threw down three or 
four gold pieces on the threshold. “ You can tel) me 


THE OLD SEA DOG AT THE “ADMIRAL BENBOW ” 3 

when Fve worked through that,” says he, looking as 
fierce as a commander. 

And, indeed, bad as his clothes were, and coarsely as 
he spoke, he had none of the appearance of a man who 
sailed before the mast ; but seemed like a mate or 
skipper, accustomed to be obeyed or to strike. The 
man who came with the barrow told us the mail had set 
him down the morning before at the “ Eoyal George ; ” 
that he had inquired what inns there were along tlie 
coast, and hearing ours well spoken of, I suppose, and 
described as lonely, had chosen it from the others for his 
place of residence. And that was all we could learn of 
our guest. 

He was a very silent man by custom. All day he 
hung round the cove, or upon the cliffs, with a brass 
telescope ; all evening he sat in a corner of the parlour 
next the fire, and drank rum and water very strong. 
Mostly he would not speak when spoken to ; only 
look up sudden and fierce, and blow through his nose 
like a fog-horu ; and we and the people who came about 
our house soon learned to let him be. Every day, when 
he came back from his stroll, he would ask if any sea- 
faring men had gone by along the road ? At first 
we thought it was the want of company of his own 
kind that made him ask this question ; but at last we 
began to see he was desirous to avoid them. When a 
seaman put up at the “ Admiral Beubow ” (as now and 
then some did, making by the coast road for Bristol), 


4 


TREASURE ISLAND 


he would look in at him through the curtained door 
before he entered the parlour ; and he was always sure 
to be as silent as a mouse when any such was present. 
For me, at least, there was no secret about the matter ; 
for I was, in a way, a sharer in his alarms. He had 
taken me aside one day, and promised me a silver four- 
penny on the first of every month if I would only keep 
my “ weather-eye open for a seafaring man with one 
leg,^" and let him know the moment he appeared. Often 
enough, when the first of the month came round, and 
I applied to him for my wage, he would only blow 
through his nose at me, and stare me down ; but before 
the week was out he was sure to think better of it, 
bring me my fourpenny piece, and repeat his orders to 
look out for the seafaring man with one leg.” 

How that personage haunted my dreams, I need 
scarcely tell you. On stormy nights, when the wind 
shook the four corners of the house, and the surf roared 
along the cove and up the cliffs, I would see him in 
a thousand forms, and with a thousand diabolical ex- 
pressions. Now the leg would be cut off at the knee, 
now at the hip ; now he was a monstrous kind of a 
creature who had never had but the one leg, and that 
in the middle of his body. To see him leap and run 
and pursue me over hedge and ditch was the worst, 
of nightmares. And altogether I paid pretty dear for 
my monthly fourpenny piece, in the shape of these 
abominable fancies. 


THE OLD SEA DOG AT THE “ADMIRAL BENBOW ’’ 6 


But thougli I was so terrified by the idea of the sea- 
faring man with one leg, I was far less afraid of the 
captain himself than anybody else who knew him. 
There were nights when he took a deal more rum and 
water than his head would carry ; and then he would 
sometimes sit and sing his wicked, old, wild sea-songs, 
minding nobody ; but sometimes he would call for 
glasses round, and force all the trembling company to 
listen to his stories or bear a chorus to his singing 
Often I have heard the house shaking with “ Yo-ho-ho, 
and a bottle of rum ; ” all the neighbours joining in 
for dear life, with the fear of death upon them, and 
each singing louder than the other, to avoid remark. 
For in these fits he was the most over-riding companion 
ever known ; he would slap his hand on the table for 
silence all round j he would fiy up in a passion of anger 
at a question, or sometimes because none was put, and 
BO he judged the company was not following his story. 
Nor would he allow anyone to leave the inn till he had 
drunk himself sleepy and reeled off to bed. 

His stories were what frightened people worst of all. 
Dreadful stories they wei-e ; about hanging, and walk- 
ing the plank, and storms at sea, and the Dry Tortugas, 
and wild deeds and places on the Spanish Main. By 
his own account he must have lived his life among some 
of the wickedest men that God ever allowed upon the 
sea ; and the language in which he told these stories 
shocked our plain country people almost as much as the 


6 


TREASURE ISLAND 


crimes that he described. My father was always saying 
the inn would be ruined, for people would soon cease 
coming there to be tyrannised over and put down, and 
sent shivering to their beds ; but 1 really believe his 
presence did us good. People were frightened at the 
time, but on looking back they rather liked it ; it was a 
fine excitement in a quiet country life ; and there was 
even a party of the younger men who pretended to 
admire him, calling him a ‘‘true sea dog,"^ and a “ real 
old salt,” and such like names, and saying there was the 
sort of man that made England terrible at sea. 

In one way, indeed, he bade fair to ruin us ; for he 
kept on staying week after week, and at last month after 
month, so that all the money had been long exhausted, 
and still my father never plucked up the heart to insist 
on having more. If ever he mentioned it, the captain 
blew through his nose so loudly, that you might say he 
roared, and stared my poor father out of the room. I 
have seen him wringing his hands after such a rebuff, 
and I am sure the annoyance and the terror he lived 
in must have greatly hastened his early and unhappy 
death. 

All the time he lived with us the captain made no 
change whatever in his dress but to buy some stockings 
from a hawker. One of the cocks of his hat having 
fallen down, he let it hang from that day forth, tliongfi 
it was a great annoyance when it blew. I remember 
the appearance of his coat, which he patched himself 


THE OLD SEA DOG AT THE “ADMIRAL BENBOW ” 7 


up-stairs in his room, and which, before tiie end, was 
nothing but patches, lie never wrote or received a 
letter, and he never spoke with any but the neighbours, 
and with these, for the most part, only when drunk on 
rum. The great sea chest none of us had ever seen 
open. 

He w'as only once crossed, and that w'as towards the 
end, when my poor father was far gone in a decline 
that took him off. Dr. Livesey came late one afternoon 
to see the patient, took a bit of dinner from my mother, 
and went into the parlour to smoke a pipe until his 
horse should come down from the hamlet, for we had 
no stabling at the old “ Benbow.” 1 follow^ed him in, 
and I remember observing the contrast the neat, bright 
doctor, with his powder as white as snow, and his bright 
black eyes and pleasant manners, made with the coltish 
country folk, and above all, with that filthy, heavy, 
bleared scarecrow of a pirate of ours, sitting far gone 
in rum, wdth his arms on the table. Suddenly he — the 
captain, that is — began to pipe up his eternal song ; — 

“ Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest — 

Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum ! 

Drink and the devil had done for the rest — 
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum !” 

At first I had supposed ^‘the dead man’s chest” to be 
that identical big box of his up-stairs in the front room, 
and the thought had been mingled in my nightmares 


8 


TKEASUBE ISLAJifD 


with that of the one-legged seafaring man. But by 
this time we had all long ceased to pay any particular 
notice to the song ; it was new, that night, to nobody 
but Dr. Livesey, and on him I observed it did not pro- 
duce an agreeable effect, for he looked up for a moment 
quite angrily before he went on with his talk to old 
Taylor, the gardener, on a new cure for the rheumatics. 
In the meantime, the captain gradually brightened up 
at his own music, and at last flapped his hand upon the 
table before him in a way we all knew to mean — silence. 
The voices stopped at once, all but Dr. Livesey’s ; he 
went o}\ as before, speaking elear and kind, and draw- 
ing briskly at his pipe between every word or two. The 
eaptain glared at him for a while, flapped his hand 
again, glared still harder, and at last broke out with a 
villainous, low oath : Silence, there, between decks !” 

“Were you addressing me, sir?” says the doctor; 
and when the ruffian had told him, with another oath, 
that this was so, “ I have only one thing to say to you, 
sir,” replies the doctor, “ that if you keep on drinking 
rum, the world will soon be quit of a very dirty scoun- 
drel!” 

The old fellow’s fury was awful. He sprang to his 
feet, drew and opened a sailor’s clasp-knife, and, bal- 
ancing it open on the palm of his hand, threatened to 
pin the doctor to the wall. 

The doctor never so much as moved. He spoke to 
him, as before, over his shoulder, and in the same tone 


THE OLD SEA DOG AT THE “ADMIRAL BENBOW” 9 


of voice ; rather high, so that all in the room might 
hear, but perfectly calm and steady : — 

“ If you do not put that knife this instant in your 
pocket, I promise, upon my honour, you shall hang at 
next assizes/^ 

Then followed a battle of looks between them ; but 
the captain soon knuckled under, put up his weapon, 
and resumed his seat, grumbling like a beaten dog. 

‘‘ And now, sir,” continued the doctor, since I now 
know there’s such a fellow in my district, you may 
count I’ll have an eye upon you day and night. I’m 
not a doctor only ; I’m a magistrate ; and if I catch a 
breath of complaint against you, if it’s only for a piece 
of incivility like to-night’s. I’ll take effectual means to 
have you hunted down and routed out of this. Let 
that suffice.” 

Soon after Dr. Livesey’s horse came to the door, and 
he rode away ; but the captain held his peace that even- 
ing, and for many evenings to come. 


CHAPTER TI 


BLACK DOG APPEARS AKD DISAPPEARS 

It was not very long after this that there occurred 
the first of the mysterious events tliat rid us at last of 
the captain, though not, as you will see, of his afl'airs. 

It was a hitter cold Avinter, with long, hard frosts and 
heavy gales ; and it was plain from the first that my 
poor father was little likely to see the spring. He sank 
daily, and my mother and I had all the inn upon our / 
* hands ; and were kept busy enough, without paying 
much regard to our unpleasant guest. 

It was one January morning, very early — a pinching, 
frosty morning — the cove all grey with hoar-frost, the 
ripple lapping softly on the stones, the sun still low and 
o/ily touching the hilltops and shining far to seaward. 
The captain had risen earlier than usual, and set out 
down the beach, his cutlass swinging under the broad 
skirts of the old blue coat, his brass telescope under his 
arm, his hat tilted back upon his head. I remember his 
breath hanging like smoke in his wake as he strode off, 
and the last sound I heard of him, as he turned the big 
/ock, was a loud snort of indignation, as though, his 
mind was still running upon Dr. Livesey. 


BLACK DOG APPEARS AND DISAPPEARS 11 

Well, mother was up-stairs with father ; and I was 
laying the breakfast-table against the captain’s return, 
when the parlour door opened, and a man stepped in on 
whom I had never set my eyes before. He was a pale, 
tallowy creature, wanting two fingers of the 'left hand ; 
and, though he wore a cutlass, he did not look much 
like a fighter. I had always my eye open for seafaring 
men, with one leg or two, and I remember this one 
puzzled me. He was not sailorly, and yet he had a 
smack of the sea about him too. 

I asked him what was for his service, and he said he 
would take rum ; but as I was going out of the room to 
fetch it he sat down upon a table and motioned me 
to draw near. I paused where I was with my napkin 
in my hand. 

“ Come here, sonny,” says he. Come nearer here.” 

I took a step nearer. 

‘'Is this here table for my mate Bill ?” he asked, 
with a kind of leer. 

I told him I did not know his mate Bill ; and this 
was for a person who stayed in our house, whom we 
called the captain. 

“ Well,” said he, “ my mate Bill would be called the 
captain, as like as not. He has a cut on one cheek, and 
a mighty pleasant way with him, particularly in drink, 
has my mate Bill. We’ll put it, for argument like, that 
your captain has a cut on one cheek — and we’ll put 
it, if you like, that that cheek’s the right one. Ah, 


12 


TEEASURE ISLAND 


well ! I told you. Now, is my mate Bill in this here 
house ? ” 

I told him he was out walking. 

“ Which way, sonny ? Which way is he gone ?” 

And when 1 had pointed out the rock and told him 
how the captain was likely to return, and how soon, and 
answered a few other questions, “ Ah,^’ said he, thisll 
be as good as drink to my mate Bill.” 

The expression of his face as he said these words was 
not at all pleasant, and I had my own reasons for think 
ing that the stranger was mistaken, even supposing he 
meant what he said. But it was no affair of mine, I 
thought ; and, besides, it was difficult to know what to 
do. The stranger kept hanging about just inside the 
inn door, peering round the corner like a cat waiting 
for a mouse. Once I stepped out myself into the road, 
but he immediately called me back, and, as I did not 
obey quick enough for his fancy, a most horrible change 
came over his tallowy face, and he ordered me in, with 
an oath that made me jump. As soon as I Avas back 
again he returned to his former manner, half fawning, 
half sneering, patted me on the shoulder, told me I v'as 
a good boy, and he had taken quite a fancy to me. “ I 
have a son of my own,” said he, as like you as two 
blocks, and he’s all the pride of my ’art. But the great 
thing for boys is discipline, sonny — discipline. Now, if 
you had sailed along of Bill, you wouldn’t have stood 
chere to be spoke to twice — not you. That was never 


BLACK DOG APPEARS AND DISAPPEARS 13 


Bill’s way, nor the way of sich as sailed with him. 
And here, sure enough, is my mate Bill, with a spy* 
glass under his arm, bless his old ’art, to be sure. You 
and me’ll just go back into the parlour, sonny, and get 
behind the door, and we’ll give Bill a little surprise — 
bless his ’art, I say again.” 

So saying, the stranger backed along with me into the 
parlour, and put me behind him in the corner, so that 
we were both hidden by the open door. I was very 
uneasy and alarmed, as you may fancy, and it rather 
added to my fears to observe that the stranger was 
certainly frightened himself. He cleared the hilt of 
his cutlass and loosened the blade in the sheath ; and 
all the time we were waiting there he kept swallow- 
ing as if he felt what we used to call a lump in the 
throat. 

At last in strode the captain, slammed the door behind 
him, without looking to the right or left, and marched 
straight across the room to where his breakfast awaited 
him. 

“ Bill,” said the stranger, in a voice that I thought 
he had tried to make bold and big. 

The captain spun round on his heel and fronted us ; 
all the brown had gone out of his face, and even his 
nose was blue ; he had the look of a man who sees a 
ghost, or the evil one, or something worse, if anything 
can be ; and, upon my word, I felt sorry to see him, all 
in a moment, turn so old and sick. 


14 


TREASURE ISLAND 


Come, Bill, you know me ; you know an old ship* 
mate. Bill, surely, ” said the stranger. 

The captain made a sort of gasp. 

Black Dog ! ” said he. 

And who else ? ” returned the other, getting more 
at his ease. Black Dog as ever was, come for to see 
his old shipmate Billy, at the ‘ Admiral Benbow ’ inn. 
Ah, Bill, Bill, we have seen a sight of times, us two, since 
I lost them two talons,” holding up his mutilated hand. 

“Now, look here,” said the captain ; “ you’ve run me 
down ; here I am ; well, then, speak up ; what is it ? ” 

“ That’s you. Bill,” returned Black Dog, “ you’re in 
the right of it, Billy. I’ll have a glass of rum from 
this dear child here, as I’ve took such a liking to ; and 
we’ll sit down, if you please, a.ud talk square, like old 
shipmates.” 

When I returned with the rum, they were already 
seated on either side of the captain’s breakfast table — 
Black Dog next to the door, and sitting sideways, so 
as to have one eye on his old shipmate, and one, as I 
thought, on his retreat. 

He bade me go, and leave the door wide open. 
“ None of your keyholes for me, sonny,” he said ; and 
I left them together, and retired into the bar. 

For a long time, though I certainly did my best to 
listen, I could hear nothing but a low gabbling ; but 
at last tlie voices began to grow higher, and 1 could 
pick up a word or two, mostly oaths, from the captain. 


BLACK DOG APPEARS AND DISAPPEARS 


15 


“ No, no, no, no ; and an end of it ! ” he cried once. 
And again, “ If it comes to swinging, swing all, say I.” 

Then all of a sudden there was a tremendous explosion 
of oaths and other noises — the chair and table went over 
in a lump, a clash of steel followed, and then a cry of 
pain, and the next instant I saw, Black Dog in full 
flight, and the captain hotly pursuing, both with drawn 
cutlasses, and the former streaming blood from the left 
shoulder. Just at the door, the captain aimed at the 
fugitive one last tremendous cut, which would certainly 
have split him to the chine had it not been intercepted 
b}'^ our big signboard of Admiral Benbow. You may 
see the notch on the lower side of the frame to this day. 

That blow was the last of the battle. Once out upon 
the road, Black Dog, in spite of his wound, showed a 
w'onderful clean pair of heels, and disappeared over the 
edge of the hill in half a minute. The captain, foi- his 
part, stood staring at the signboard like a bewildered 
man. Then he passed his hand over his eyes several 
times, and at last turned back into the house. 

“ .Jim,” says he, ‘^rum ;”and as he spoke, he reeled 
a little, and caught himself with one hand against the 
wall. 

“ Are you hurt ? ” cried I. 

“ Rum,” he repeated. “ I must get away from here. 
Rum ! rum ! ” 

I ran to fetch it; out I was quite unsteadied by all 
that had fallen out, and I broke one glass and fouled 


16 


TREASURE ISLAND 


the tap, and while I was still getting in my own way, 1 
heard a loud fall in the parlour, and, running in, beheld 
the captain lying full length upon the floor. At the same 
instant my mother, alarmed by the cries and fighting, 
came running down-stairs to help me. Between us we 
raised his head. He was breathing very loud and hard ; 
but his eyes were closed, and his face a horrible colour. 

Dear, deary me,” cried my mother, “ what a dis- 
grace upon the house ! And your poor father sick ! ” 

In the meantime, we had no idea what to do to help 
the captain, nor any other thought but that he had got 
his death-hurt in the scuffle with the stranger. I got 
the rum, to be sure, and tried to put it down his throat ; 
but his teeth were tightly shut, and his jaws as strong 
as iron. It Avas a happy relief for us when the door 
opened and Dr. Livesey came in, on his visit to my 
father. 

“ Oh, doctor,” we cried, ‘^what shall we do ? Where 
is he wounded ? ” 

“ Wounded ? A fiddle-stick^s end !” said the doctor. 
‘‘No more wounded than you or I. The man has had 
a stroke, as I warned him. Now, Mrs. Hawkins, just 
you run up-stairs to your husband, and tell him, if 
possible, nothing about it. For ray part, I must do my 
best to save this fellow’s trebly worthless life ; and Jim 
here will get me a basin.” 

When I got back with the basin, the doctor had 
already ripped up the captain’s sleeve, and exposed his 


BLACK DOG APPEARS AND DISAPPEARS 17 


great sinewy arm. It was tattooed in several places. 

Here’s luck,” “ A fair wind,” and “ Billy Bones his 
fancy,” were very neatly and clearly executed on the 
forearm ; and up near the shoulder there was a sketch 
of a gallows and a man hanging from it — done, as I 
thought, with great spirit. 

“ Prophetic,” said the doctor, touching this picture 
with his finger. And now. Master Billy Bones, if 
that be your name, we’ll have a look at the colour of 
your blood. Jim,” he said, “ are you afraid of blood ? ” 

‘‘No, sir,” said I. 

‘‘Well, then,” said he, “you hold the basin; ’’and 
with that he took his lancet and opened a vein. 

A great deal of blood was taken before the captain 
opened his eyes and looked mistily about him. First 
he recognised the doctor with an unmistakable frown ; 
then his glance fell upon me, and he looked relieved. 
But suddenly his colour changed, and he tried to raise 
himself, crying : — 

“ Where’s Black Dog ? ” 

“ There is no Black Dog here,” said the doctor, 
“ except what you have on your own back. You have 
been drinking rum ; you have had a stroke, precisely as 
1 told you ; and I have just, very much against my own 
will, dragged you headforemost out of the grave. Now, 
Mr. Bones ” 

“ That’s not my name,” he interrupted. 

“ Much I care,” returned the doctor. “ It’s the name 
2 


18 


TREASURE ISLAIrt) 


of a baccaneer of my acquaintance ; and I call you by it 
for the sake of shortness, and what I have to say to you 
is this : one glass of rum won’t kill you, but if you take 
one you’ll take another and another, and I stake my wig 
■f you don’t break off short, you’ll die — do you under- 
stand that ? — die, and go to your own place, like the 
man in the Bible. Come, now, maKe an effort. I’ll 
help you to your bed for once.'’ 

Between us, with much trouble, we managed to hoist 
him up-stairs, and laid him on his bed, where his head 
fell back on the pillow, as if he were almost fainting. 

‘‘ Now, mind you,” said the doctor, ‘‘ I clear my con- 
science — the name of rum for you is death.” 

And with that he went off to see my father, taking me 
with him by the arm. 

This is nothing,” he said, as soon as he had closed 
the door. “ I have drawn blood enough to keep him 
quiet a while ; he should lie for a week where he is — 
that is the best thing for him and you ; but anothei 
stroke would settle him.’' 


CHAPTER III 


THE BLACK SPOT 

About noon I stopped at the captain’s door with 
some cooling drinks and medicines. He was lying very 
much as we had left him, only a little higher, and he 
seemed both weak and excited. 

“ Jim,” he said, you’re the only one here that’s 
worth anything ; and you know I’ve been always good 
to you. Never a month but I’ve given you a silver 
fourpenny for yourself. And now you see, mate. I’m 
pretty low, and deserted by all ; and Jim, you’ll bring 
me one noggin of rum, now, won’t you, matey ?” 

“ The doctor ” I began. 

But he broke in cursing the doctor, in a feeble voice, 
but heartily. ‘‘Doctors is all swabs,” he said; “and 
that doctor there, why, what do he know about sea- 
faring men ? I been in places hot as pitch, and ma^ 
dropping round with Yellow Jack, and the blessediand 
a-heaving like the sea with earthquakes — what do the 
doctor know of lands like that ? — and I lived on rum, 
I tell you. It’s been meat and drink, and man and 
wife, to me ; and if I’m not to have my rum now I’m 
a poor old hulk on a lee shore, my blood’Jl be on you. 


20 


TREASURE ISLAND 


Jim, and that Doctor swab ; ” and he ran on again for 
a while with curses. “ Look, Jim, how my fingers 
fidges,” he continued, in the pleading tone. I can’t 
keep ’em still, not I. I haven’t had a drop this blessed 
day. That doctor’s a fool, I tell you. If I don’t have 
i drain o’ rum, Jim, I’ll have the horrors ; I seen some 
on ’em already. I seen old Flint in the corner there, 
behind you ; as plain as print, I seen him ; and if I 
get the horrors, I’m a man that has lived rough, and I’ll 
raise Cain. Your doctor hisself said one glass wouldn’t 
hurt me. I’ll give you a golden guinea for a noggin, 
Jim.” 

He was growing more and more excited, and this 
alarmed me for my father, who was very low that day, 
and needed quiet ; besides, I was reassured by the 
doctor’s words, now quoted to me, and rather offended 
by the offer of a bribe. 

I want none of your money,” said I, but what 
you owe my father. I’ll get you one glass, and no 
more.” 

When I brought it to him he seized it greedily "'nd 
drank it out. 

Ay, ay,” said he, that’s some better, sure enough, 
xind now, matey, did that doctor say hoVv .ong I was to 
lie here in this old berth ?” 

A week at least,” said I. 

Thunder ! ” he cried. ‘‘ A week ! I can’t do that : 
they’d have the black spot on me by then. The lubbers 


THE BLACK SPOT 


21 


is going about to get the wind of me this blessed 
moment ; lubbers as couldn’t keep what they got, and 
want to nail what is another’s. Is that seamanly be- 
haviour, now, I want to know ? But I’m a saving 
soul I never wasted good money of mine, nor lost it 
neither ; and I’ll trick ’em again. I’m not afraid on 
’em. I’ll shake out another reef, matey, and daddle 
’em again.” 

As he was thus speaking, he had risen from bed with 
great difficulty, holding to my shoulder with a grip that 
almost made me cry out, and moving his legs like so 
much dead weight. His words, spirited as they were in 
meaning, contrasted sadly with the weakness of the 
voice in which they were uttered. He paused when he 
had got into a sitting position on the edge. 

** That doctor’s done me,” he murmured. ** My ears 
is singing. Lay me back.” 

Before I could do much to help him he had fallen 
back again to his former place, where he lay for a while 
silent. 

Jim,” he said, at length, you saw that seafaring 
man to-day ? ” 

Black Dog ? ” I asked. 

Ah ! Black Dog,” says he. ** He*8 a bad ’un ; but 
there’s worse that put him on. Now, if I can’t get 
away nohow, and they tip me the black spot, mind you, 
it’s my old sea chest they’re after ; you get on a horse— 
you can, can’t you ? Well, then, you get on a horse. 


22 


TREASURE ISLAND 


and go to — well, yes, I will ! — to that eternal Doctor 
swab, and tell him to pipe all hands — magistrates and 
sich, and he’ll lay ’em aboard at the ‘ Admiral Benbow ’ 
— all old Flint’s crew, man and boy, all on ’em that’s 
left. I was first mate, I was, old Flint’s first mate, and 
I’m the on’y one as knows tlie place. He gave it me to 
Savannah, when he lay a-dying, like as if I was to now, 
you see. But you won’t peach unless they get the black 
spot on me, or unless you see that Black Dog again, or 
a seafaring man with one leg, Jim — him above all.” 

“ But what is the black spot, captain ? ” I asked. 

That’s a summons, mate. I’ll tell you if they get 
that. But you keep your weather-eye open, Jim, and 
I’ll share with you equals, upon my honour.” 

He wandered a little longer, his voice growing 
weaker ; but soon after I had given him his medicine, 
which he took like a child, with the remark, “ If ever a 
seaman wanted drugs, it’s me,” he fell at last into a 
heavy, swoon-like sleep, in which I left him. What I 
should have done had all gone well I do not know. 
Probably I should have told the whole story to the doc- 
tor ; for I was in mortal fear lest the captain should 
repent of his confessions and make an end of me. But 
as things fell out, my poor father died quite suddenly 
that evening, which put all other matters on one side. 
Our natural distress, the visits of the neighbours, the 
arranging of the funeral, and all the work of the inn to 
be carried on in the meanwhile, kept me so busy that 1 


THE BLACK; SPOT 


23 


had scarcely time to think of the captain, far less to be 
afraid of him. 

He got down-stairs next morning, to be sure, and had 
his meals as usual, though he ate little, and had more, 
I am afraid, than his usual supply of rum, for he helped 
himself out of the bar, scowling and blowing through 
his nose, and no one dared to cross him. On the night 
before the funeral he was as drunk as ever ; and it was 
shocking, in that house of mourning, to hear him sing- 
ing away at his ugly old sea-song ; but, weak as he was, 
we were all in the fear of death for him, and the doctor 
was suddenly taken up with a case many miles away, 
and was never near the house after my father’s death. 
I have said the captain was weak ; and indeed he 
seemed rather to grow weaker than regain his strength. 
He clambered up and down-stairs, and went from the 
parlour to the bar and back again, and sometimes put 
his nose out of doors to smell the sea, holding on to tlie 
walls as he went for support, and breathing hard and 
fast like a man on a steep mountain. He never particu- 
larly addressed me, and it is my belief he had as good 
as forgotten his confidences ; but his temper was more 
flighty, and, allowing for his bodily weakness, more 
violent than ever. He had an alarming way now when 
he was drunk of drawing his cutlass and laying it bare 
before him on the table. But, with all that, he minded 
people less, and seemed shut up in his own thoughts 
and rather wandering. Once, for instance, to our ex- 


24 


TREASUEE ISLAND 


treme wonder, he piped up to a different air, a kind oi 
country love-song, tha' he must nave learned in his 
youth before he had begun to follow the sea. 

So things passed until, the day after the funeral, and 
about three o^clock of a bitter, foggy, frosty afternoon, 
T was standing at the door for a moment, full of sad 
thoughts about my father, when I saw someone drawing 
slowly near along the road. He was plainly blind, for 
he tapped before him with a stick, and wore a great 
green shade over his eyes and nose ; and he was 
hunched, as if with age or weakness, and wore a huge 
old tattered sea-cloak with a hood, that made him 
appear positively deformed. I never saw in my life a 
more dreadful looking figure. He stopped a little from 
the inn, and, raising his voice in an odd sing-song, 
addressed the air in front of him : — 

“Will any kind friend inform a poor blind man, who 
has lost the precious sight cf his eyes in the gracious 
defence of his native country, England, and God bless 
King George ! — where or in what part of this country 
he may now be ? ” 

“You are at the ‘Admiral Benbow,' Black Hill 
Cove, my good man,” said I. 

“ I hear a voice,” said he — “ a young voice. Will 
you give me your hand, my kind young friend, and 
lead me in ? ” 

I held out my hand, and the horrible, soft-spoken, 
eyeless creature gripped it in a moment like a vice. I 


THE BLACK SPOT 


25 


wras 80 much startled that I struggled to withdraw ; but 
the blind man palled me close up to him with a single 
action of his arm. 

‘‘ Now, boy,” he said, take me in to the captain.” 

Sir,” said I, “ upon my word I dare not.” 

“ Oh,” he sneered, that’s it 1 Take me in straight, 
or I’ll break your arm.” 

And he gave it, as he spoke, a wrench, that made me 
cry out. 

Sir,” said I, “ it is for yourself I mean. The cap- 
tain is not what he used to be. He sits with a drawn 
cutlass. Another gentleman ” 

Come, now. march,” interrupted he ; and I never 
heard a voice so cruel, and cold, and ugly as that blind 
man’s. It cowed me more than the pain ; and I began 
to obey him at once, walking straight in at the door 
and towards the parlour, where our sick old buccaneer 
was sitting, dazed with rum. The blind man clung 
close to me, holding me in one iron fist, and leaning 
almost more of his weight on me than I could carry. 

Lead me straight up to him. and when I’m in view, 
cry out, ' Here’s a friend for you. Bill.’ If you don’t. 
I’ll do this ; ” and with that he gave me a twitch that 
I thought would have made me faint. Between this 
and that, I was so utterly terrified of the blind beggar 
that I forgot my terror of the captain, and as I opened 
the parlour door, cried out the words he had ordered in 
a trembling voice. 


26 


TREASURE ISLAND 


The poor captain raised his eyes, and at one look the 
rum went out of him, and left him staring sober. The 
expression of his face was not so much of terror as of 
mortal sickness. He made a movement to rise, but I do 
not believe he had enough force left in his body. 

“ Now, Bill, sit where you are,” said the beggar. 

If I can’t see, I can hear a finger stirring. Business 
is business. Hold out your left hand. Boy, take his 
left hand by the wrist, and bring it near to my right.” 

We both obeyed him to the letter, and I saw him pass 
something from the hollow of the hand that held his 
stick into the palm of the captain’s, which closed upon 
it instantly. 

“ And now that’s done,” said the blind man ; and at 
the words he suddenly left hold of me, and, with in- 
credible accuracy and nimbleness, skipped out of the 
parlour and into the road, where, as I still stood motion- 
less, I could hear his stick go tap-tap- tapping into the 
distance. 

It was some time before either I or the captain seemed 
to gather our senses ; but at length, and about at the 
same moment, I released his wrist, which I was still 
holding, and he drew in his hand and looked sharply 
into the palm. 

“ Ten o’clock I ” he cried. “ Six hours. We’ll do 
them yet ; ” and he sprang to his feet. 

Even as he did so, he reeled, put his hand to his 
throat, stood swaying for a moment, and then, with a 


THE BLACK SPOT 


27 


peculiar sound, fell from his whole height face foremost 
to the floor. 

I ran to him at once, calling to my mother. But 
haste was all in vain. The captain had been struck 
dead by thundering apoplexy. It is a curious thing to 
understand, for I had certainly never liked the man, 
though of late I had begun to pity him, but as soon as I 
saw that he was dead, I burst into a flood of tears. It 
was the second death I had known, and the sorrow of 
the tirst was still fresh in my heari. 


CHAPTER IV 


THE SEA CHEST 

1 LOST no time, of course, in telling my mother all 
that I knew, and perhaps should have told her long 
before, and we saw ourselves at once in a difficult and 
dangerous position. Some of the man’s money — if he 
liad any — was certainly due to us ; but it was not likely 
that our captain’s shipmates, above all the tAvo speci- 
mens seen by me, Black Dog and the blind beggar, 
would be inclined to give up their booty in payment of 
the dead man’s debts. The captain’s order to mount 
at once and ride for Dr. Livesey would have left my 
mother alone and unprotected, which was not to be 
thought of. Indeed, it seemed impossible for either of us 
to remain much longer in the house . the fall of coals in 
th^ kitchen grate, the very ticking of the clock, filled us 
with alarms. The neighbourhood, to our ears, seemed 
haunted by approaching footsteps ; and what between 
the dead body of the captain on the parlour floor, and 
the thought of that detestable blind beggar hovering 
near at hand, and ready to return, there were moments 
when, as the saying goes, I jumped in my skin for 
terror. Something must speedily be resolved upon ; 


THE SEA CHEST 


29 


and it occurred to us at last to go forth together and 
seek help in the neighbouring hamlet. No sooner said 
than done. Bare-headed as we were, we ran out at once 
in the gathering evening and the frosty fog. 

The hamlet lay not many hundred yards away though 
out of view, on the other side of the next cove ; and 
what greatly encouraged me, it was in an opposite direc- 
tion from that whence the blind man had made his 
appearance, and whither he had presumably returned. 
We were not many minutes on the road, though we 
sometimes stopped to lay hold of each other and hearken. 
But there was no unusual sound — nothing but the low 
wash of the ripple and the croaking of the crows in 
the wood. 

It was already candle-light when we reached the ham- 
let, and I shall never forget how much I was cheered to 
see the yellow shine in doors and windows ; but that, as 
it proved, was the best of the help we were likely to get 
in that quarter. For — you would have thought men 
would have been ashamed of themselves — no soul would 
consent to return with us to the Admiral Benbow.” 
The more we told of our troubles, the more — man, 
wmman, and child — they clung to the shelter of their 
houses. The name of Captain Flint, though it was 
strange to me, was well enough known to some there, 
and carried a great weight of terror. Some of the men 
who had been to field-work on the far side of the 
** Admiral Benbow ” remembered, besides, to have seen 


30 


TREASURE ISLAND 


several strangers on the road, and, taking them to he 
smugglers, to have bolted away ; and one at least had 
seen a little lugger in what we called Kitt’s Hole. For 
that matter, anyone who was a comrade of the captain’s 
was enough to frighten them to death. And the short 
and the long of the matter was, that while we could get 
several who were willing enough to ride to Dr. Livesey’s 
which lay in another direction, not one would help us 
to defend the inn. 

They say cowardice is infections ; but then argument 

is, on the other hand, a great emboldener ; and so when 
each had said his say, my mother made them a speech. 
She would not, she declared, lose money that belonged 
to her fatherless boy ; “ if none of the rest of you dare,” 
she said, ‘‘Jim and I dare. Back we will go, the way 
we came, and small thanks to you big, hulking, chicken- 
hearted men. We’ll have that chest open, if we die for 

it. And I’ll thank you for that bag, Mrs. Crossley, to 
bring back our lawful money in.” 

Of course, I said I would go with my mother ; and of 
course they all cried out at our foolhardiness ; but even 
then not a man would go along with us. All they would, 
do was to give me a loaded pistol, lest we were attacked ; 
and to promise to have horses ready saddled, in case we 
were pursued on our return ; while one lad was to ride 
forward to the doctor’s in search of armed assistance. 

My heart was beating finely when we two set .'orth in 
the cold night upon this dangerous venture. A fuD 


THE £EA CHEST 


81 


moon was beginning to rise and peered redly through 
tlie upper edges of the fog, and this increased our haste, 
for it was plain, before we came forth again, that all 
would be as bright as day, and our departure exposed to 
the eyes of any watchers. AVe slipped along the hedges, 
noiseless and swift, nor did we see or hear anything to 
increase our terrors, till, to our huge relief, the door of 
the “Admiral Benbow ” had closed behind us. 

I slipped the bolt at once, and we stood and panted 
for a moment in the dark, alone in the house with the 
dead captain’s body. Then my mother got a candle 
in the bar, and, holding each other’s hands, we advanced 
into the parlour. He lay as we had left him, on his 
back, with his eyes open, and one arm stretched out. 

“ Draw down the blind, Jim,” whispered my mother ; 

they might come and watch outside. And now,” 
said she, when I had done so, “ we have to get the 
key oft' that ; and who’s to touch it, I should like to 
know!” and she gave a kind of sob as she said the 
words. 

I went down on my knees at once. On the floor close 
to his hand there was a little round of paper, blackened 
on the one side. I could not doubt that this was the 
black spot ; and taking it up, I found written on the 
other side, in a very good, clear hand, this short mes- 
sage : “You have till ten to-night.” 

“ He had till ten, mother,” said I ; and just as I said 
it, our old clock began striking. This sudden noise 


32 


TREASURE ISLAND 


startled us shockingly ; but the news was good, for it 
was only six. 

^‘Now, Jim,” she said, ^'that key.^* 

I felt in his pockets, one after another. A few small 
coins, a thimble, and some thread and big needles, s 
piece of pigtail tobacco bitten away at the end, his gully 
with the crooked handle, a pocket compass, and a tinder 
box, were all that they contained, and I began to despair. 

Perhaps it’s round his neck,” suggested my mother. 

Overcoming a strong repugnance, I tore open his shirt 
at the neck, and there, sure enough, hanging to a bit of 
tarry string, which I cut with his own gully, we found 
the key. At this triumph we were tiled with hope, and 
hurried up-stairs, without delay, to the little room where 
he had slept so long, and where his box had stood since 
the day of his arrival. 

It was like any other seaman’s chest on the outside, 
the initial B.” burned on the top of it with a hot iron, 
and the corners somewhat smashed and broken as by 
long, rough usage. 

Give me the key,” said my mother ; and though 
the lock was very stiff, she had turned it and thrown 
back the lid in a twinkling. 

A strong smell of tobacco and tar rose from the inte- 
rior, but nothing was to be seen on the top except a 
suit of very good clothes, carefully brushed and folded. 
They had never been worn, my mother said. Under 
that, the miscellany began — a quadrant, a tin canikin, 


THE SEA CHEST 


33 


several sticks of tobacco, two brace of very handsome 
pistols, a piece of bar silver, an old Spanish watch and 
some other trinkets of little value and mostly of foreign 
make, a pair of compasses mounted with brass, and five 
or six curious West Indian shells. It has often set me 
thinking since that he should have carried about these 
shells with him in his wandering, guilty, and hunted 
life. 

In the meantime, we had found nothing of any value 
but the silver and the trinkets, and neither of these were 
in our way. Underneath there was an old boat-cloak, 
whitened with sea-salt on many a harbour-bar. My 
mother pulled it up Avith impatience, and there laj 
before us, the last things in the chest, a bundle tied up 
in oilcloth, and looking like papers, and a canvas bag, 
that gave forth, at a touch, the jingle of gold. 

ril show these rogues that I’m an honest woman,’’ 
said my mother. “ I’ll have my dues, and not a far* 
thing over. Hold Mrs. Crossley’s bag.” And she begar 
to count over the amount of the captain’s score from 
the sailor’s bag into the one that I was holding. 

It was a long, difficult business, for the coins were of 
all countries and sizes — doubloons, and louis-d’ors, and 
guineas, and pieces of eight, and I know not what 
besides, all shaken together at random. The guineas, 
too, were about the scarcest, and it was with these only 
that my mother knew how to make her count. 

When we were about half way through, I suddenly 
3 


34 


TREASURE ISLAND 


put my hand upon her arm ; for I had heard in the 
silent, frosty air, a sound that brought my heart into 
my mouth — the tap-tapping of the blind man’s stick 
upon the frozen road. It drew nearer and nearer, while 
we sat holding our breath. Then it struck sharp on the 
inn door, and then we could hear the handle being 
turned, and the bolt rattling as the wretched being tried 
to enter ; and then there was a long time of silence both 
within and without. At last the tapping re-commenced, 
and, to our indescribable joy and gratitude, died slowly 
away again until it ceased to be heard. 

“ Mother,” said I, “ take the whole and let « oe 
going ; ” for I was sure the bolted door must have 
seemed suspicious, and would bring the whole hornet’s 
nest about our ears ; though how thankful I was that I 
had bolted it, none could tell who had never met that 
terrible blind man. 

But my mother, frightened as she was, would not 
consent to take a fraction more than was due to her, 
and was obstinately unwilling to be content with 
less. 

It was not yet seven, she said, by a long way ; she 
knew her rights and she would have them ; and she was 
still arguing with me, when a little low whistle sounded 
a good way oil upon the hill. That was enough, and 
more than enough, for both of us. 

“ I’ll take what I have,” she said, jumping to her 
feet. 


THE SEA CHEST 


35 


** And Fll take this to square the count,” said 1, pick- 
ing up the oilskin packet. 

Next moment vve were both groping down-stairs, leav- 
ing the candle by the empty chest ; and the next we 
had opened the <loor and were in full retreat. We had 
not started a moment too soon. The fog was rapidly 
dispersing ; already the moon shone quite clear on the 
high ground on either side ; and it was only in the 
exact bottom of the dell and round the tavern door that 
a thin veil still hung unbroken to conceal the first steps 
of our escape. Far less than half-way to the hamlet, 
very little beyond the bottom of the hill, we must come 
forth into the moonlight. Nor was this all ; for the 
sound of several footsteps running came already to our 
ears, and as we looked back in their direction, a light 
tossing to and fro and still rapidly advancing, showed 
that one of tlie new-comers carried a lantern. 

“ My dear,” said my mother suddenly, ‘‘ take the 
money and run on. I am going to faint.” 

This was certainly the end for both of us, I thought. 
How I cursed the cowardice of the neighbours ; how I 
blamed my poor mother for her honesty and her greed, 
for her past foolhardiness and present Aveakness ! We 
were just at the little bridge, by good fortune ; and I 
helped her, tottering as she Avas, to the edge of the bank, 
where, sure enough, she gave a sigh and fell on my 
shoulder. I do not knoAV how I found the strength to 
do it a' all, and I am afraid it was roughly done ; but 


36 


TREASURE ISLAND 


I managed to drag her down the bank and a little wnj 
under the arch. Farther I could not move her, for the 
bridge was too low to let me do more than crawl below 
it. So there we had to stay— my mother almost entirely 
3xp3sed, and both of us within earshot of the inn. 


CHAPTER V 


THE LAST OF THE BLIND MAN 

My curiosity, in a sense, was stronger than my fear ; 
for I could not remain where I was, but crept back to 
the bank again, whence, sheltering my head behind a 
bush of broom, I might command the road before our 
door. I was scarcely in position ere my enemies began 
to arrive, seven or eight of them, running hard, theii 
feet beating out of time along the road, and the man 
with the lantern some paces in front. Three men ran 
together, hand in hand ; and I made out, even through 
the mist, that the middle man of this trio was the blind 
beggar. The next moment his voice showed me that 
I was right. 

Down with the door ! ” he cried. 

Ay, ay, sir ! " answered two or three ; and a rush 
was made upon the ^‘Admiral Benbow,^’ the lantern- 
bearer following 5 and then I could see them pause, and 
hear speeches passed in a lower key, as if they were sur- 
prised to find the door open. But the pause was briefi 
for the blind man again issued his commands. His 
voice sounded louder and higher, as if* he were afire 
with eagerness and rage. 


38 


TREASURE ISlAt^D 


In, in, in ! ” he shouted, and cursed them for their 
delay. 

Four or five of them obeyed at once, two remaining 
on the road with the formidable beggar. There was a 
pause, then a cry of surprise, and then a voice shouting 
from the house : — 

“ Bill’s dead ! ” 

But the blind man swore at them again for their 
delay. 

“Search him, some of you shirking lubbers, and the 
rest of you aloft and get the chest,” he cried. 

I could hear their feet rattling up our old stairs, so 
that the house must have shook with it. Promptly 
afterwards, fresh sounds of astonishment arose ; the 
window of the captain’s room was thrown open with a 
slam and a jingle of broken glass ; and a man leaned 
out into the moonlight, head and shoulders, and 
addressed the blind beggar on the road below him. 

“Pew,” he cried, “they’ve been before us. Some- 
one’s turned the chest out alow and aloft.” 

“ Is it there ? ” roared Pew. 

“The money’s there.” 

The blind man cursed the money. 

“ Flint’s fist, I mean,” he cried. 

“ We don’t see it here nohow,” returned the maa. 

“ Here, you below there, is it on Bill ? ” cried the 
blind man again. 

At that, another fellow, probably him who had re- 


THE LAST OF THE BLIND MAN 


89 


mained below to search the captain’s body, came to the 
door of the inn. Bill’s been overhauled a’readj,” 
said he, “ nothin’ left.” 

It’s these people of the inn — it’s that boy. I wish 
I had put his eyes out ! ” cried the blind man, Pew. 
“ They were here no time ago — they had the door bolted 
when I tried it. Scatter, lads, and find ’em.” 

“ Sure enough, they left their glim here,” said the 
fellow from the window. 

‘^Scatter and find ’em! Rout the house out!” 
reiterated Pew, striking with his stick upon the road. 

Then there follow'ed a great to-do through all our 
old inn, heavy feet pounding to and fro, furniture 
thrown over, doors kicked in, until the very rocks re- 
echoed, and the men came out again, one after another, 
on the road, and declared that we were nowhere to be 
found. And just then the same whistle that had 
alarmed my mother and myself over the dead captain’s 
money was once more clearly audible through the 
uight, but this time twice repeated. I had thought it 
to be the blind man’s trumpet, so to speak, summoning 
his crew to the assault ; but I now found that it was a 
signal from the hillside towards the hamlet, and, from 
its effect upon the buccaneers, a signal to warn them of 
approaching danger. 

“ There’s Dirk again,” said one. Twice ! We’ll 
have to budge, mates.” 

“ Budge, you skulk ! ” cried Pew, 


Dirk was a 


40 


TREASURE ISLAND 


fool and a coward from the first— you wouldn’t mind 
him. They must be close by ; they can’t be far ; you 
have your hands on it. Scatter and look for them, 
dogs ! Oh, shiver my soul,” he cried, “ if I had eyes ! ” 

This appeal seemed to produce some effect, for two 
of the fellows began to look here and there among the 
lumber, but half-heartedly, I thought, and with half an 
eye to their own danger all the time, while the rest 
stood irresolute on the road. 

“ You have your hands on thousands, you fools, and 
you hang a leg ! You’d be as rich as kings if you could 
find it, and you know it’s here, and you stand there 
malingering. There wasn’t one of you dared face Bill, 
and I did it — a blind man ! And I’m to lose my chance 
for you ! I’m to be a poor, crawling beggar, sponging 
for rum, when I might be rolling in a coach ! If you 
had the pluck of a weevil in a biscuit you would catch 
them still.” 

Hang it. Pew, we’ve got the doubloons !” grumbled 

one. 

They might have hid the blessed thing,” said 
another. ‘^Take the Georges, Pew, and don’t stand 
here squalling.” 

Squalling was the word for it. Pew’s anger rose so 
high at these objections ; till at last, his passion com- 
pletely taking the upper hand, he struck at them right 
and left in his blindness, and his stick sounded heavily 
on more than one. 


THE LAST OF THE BLIND MAN 


41 


These, in their turn, cursed back at the blind mis- 
creant, threatened him in horrid terms, and tried in 
vain to catch the stick and wrest it from his grasp. 

This quarrel was the saving of us ; for while it was 
still raging, another sound came from the top of the hill 
on the side of the hamlet — the tramp of horses gallop- 
ing. Almost at the same time a pistol-shot, flash and 
report, came from the hedge side. And that was plainly 
the last signal of danger ; for the buccaneers turned at 
once and ran, separating in every direction, one seaward 
along the cove, one slant across the hill, and so on, so 
that in half a minute not a sign of them remained but 
Pew. Him they had deserted, whether in sheer panic 
or out of revenge for his ill words and blows, I know 
not ; but there he remained behind, tapping up and 
down the road in a frenzy, and groping and calling for 
his comrades. Finally he took the wrong turn, and 
ran a few steps past me, towards the hamlet, crying : — 
“ Johnny, Black Dog, Dirk,” and other names, *^you 
wonT leave old Pew, mates — not old Pew ! ” 

Just then the noise of horses topped the rise, and 
four or five riders came in sight in the moonlight, and 
swept at full gallop down the slope. 

At this Pew saw his error, turned with a scream, and 
ran straight for the ditch, into which he rolled. But 
he was on his feet again in a second, and made another 
dash, now utterly bewildered, right under the nearest of 
the coming horses. 


42 


TKEASURE ISLAND 


The rider tried to save him, but in vain. Down 
went Pew with a cry that rang high into the night ; 
and the four hoofs trampled and spurned him and 
passed by. He fell on his side, then gently collapsed 
upon his face, and moved no more. 

I leaped to my feet and hailed the riders. They were 
pulling up, at any rate, horrified at the accident ; and 1 
soon saw what they were. One, tailing out behind the 
rest, was a lad that had gone from the hamlet to Ur. 
Livesey’s ; the rest were revenue officers, whom he had 
met by the way, and with whom he liad had the intel- 
ligence to return at once. Some news of tlie lugger in 
Kitt’s Hole had found its Avay to Supervisor Dance, and 
set him forth that night in our direction, and to that 
circumstance my mother and 1 owed our preservation 
from death. 

Pew was dead, stone dead. As for my mother, when 
we had carried her up to the hamlet, a little cold water 
and salts and that soon brought her back again, and she 
was none the worse for her terror, though she still con- 
tinued to deplore the balance of the money. In the 
meantime the supervisor rode on, as fast as he could, to 
HitPs Hole ; but his men had to dismount and grope 
down the dingle, leading, and sometimes supporting, 
their horses, and in continual fear of ambushes ; so it 
was no great matter for surprise that when they got 
down to the Hole the lugger was already under way, 
though still close in. He hailed her. A voice replied. 


THE LAST OF THE BLIND MAN 


43 


telling him to keep out of the moonlight, or he would 
get some lead in him, and at the same time a bullet 
whistled close by his arm. Soon after, the lugger 
doubled the point and disappeared. Mr. Dance stood 
there, as he said, “ like a fish out of water,” and all he 

could do was to despatch a man to B to warn the 

cutter. “ And that,” said he, “ is just about as good 
as nothing. They’ve got off clean, and there’s an end. 
Only,” he added, I’m glad I trod on Master Pew’s 
corns ; ” for by this time he had heard my story. 

I went back with him to the Admiral Benbow,” and 
you canTiot imagine a house in such a state of smash ; 
the very clock had been thrown down by these fellows in 
their furious hunt after my mother and myself ; and 
though nothing had actually been taken away except the 
captain’s money-bag and a little silver from the till, I 
could see at once that we were ruined. Mr. Dance could 
make nothing of the scene. 

“ They got the money, you say ? Well, then, Haw- 
kins, what in fortune were they after ? More money, 
r suppose ? ” 

No, sir ; not money, I think,” replied I. ‘‘In fact, 
sir, I believe I have the thing in my breast-pocket ; and, 
to tell you the truth, I should like to get it put in 
safety.” 

“ To be sure, boy ; quite right,” said he. “ I’ll take 
it, if you like.” 

“ I thought, perhaps. Dr. Livesey ” I began. 


44 


TREASURE ISLAND 


Perfectly right,” he interrupted, very cheerily, 

perfectly right— a gentleman and a magistrate. And, 
now I come to think of it, I might as well ride round 
there myself and report to him or squire. Master Pew’s 
dead, when all’s done ; not that I regret it, but he’s 
dead, you see, and people will make it out against an 
officer of his Majesty’s revenue, if make it out they can. 
Now, I’ll tell you, Hawkins : if you like. I’ll take you 
along.” 

I thanked him heartily for the offer, and we walked 
back to the hamlet where the horses were. By the time 
I had told mother of my purpose they were all in the 
saddle. 

“ Dogger,” said Mr. Dance, you have a good horse ; 
take up this lad behind you.” 

As soon as I was mounted, holding on to Dogger’s 
belt, the supervisor gave the Avord, and the party struck 
out at a bouncing trot on the road to Dr. Livesey’s 
house. 


K 


Cn AFTER VI 

THE captain’s PAPERS 

We rode hard all the way, till we drew up before Dr. 
Livesey’s door. The house was all dark to the front. 

Mr. Dance told me to jump down and knock, and 
Dogger gave me a stirrup to descend by. The door was 
ojiened almost at once by the maid. 

^‘Is Dr. Livesey in ?” 1 asked. 

No, she said ; he had come home in the afternoon, 
but had gone up to the Hall to dine and pass the even- 
ing with the squire. 

“ So there we go, boys,” said Mr. Dance. 

This time, as the distance was short, I did not mount, 
but ran with Dogger’s stirrup-leather to the lodge gates, 
and up the long, leafless, moonlit avenue to where the 
white line of the Hall buildings looked on either hand 
on great old gardens. Here Mr. Dance dismounted, and, 
taking me along with him, was admitted at a word into 
the house. 

The servant led us down a matted passage, and showed 
us at the end into a great library, all lined with bookcases 
and busts upon the top of them, where the squire and Dr. 
Livesey sat, pipe in hand, on either side of a bright fire 


46 


TREASURE ISLAND 


I had never seen the squire so near at hand. He was 
a tall man, over six feet high, and broad in proportion, 
and he had a bluff, rough-and-ready face, all roughened 
and reddened and lined in his long travels. Ills eye- 
brows were very black, and moved readily, and this gave 
him a look of some temper, not bad, you would say, but 
quick and high. 

Come in, Mr. Dance,” says he, very stately and con- 
descending. 

Crood-ovening, Dance,” says the doctor, Avith a nod. 
“And good-evening to you, friend Jim. What good 
wind brings you here ? ” 

ddie supervisor stood up straight and stiff, and told 
his story like a lesson ; and you should have seen how 
the two gentlemen leaned forward and looked at each 
other, and forgot to smoke in their surprise and interest. 
When they heard how my mother went back to the inn. 
Dr. Livesey fairly slapped his thigh, and the squire cried 
“ Bravo ! ” and broke his long pipe against the grate. 
Long before it was done, Mr. Trelawney (that, you Avill 
remember, was the squire’s name) had got up from liis 
seat, and was striding about the room, and the doctor, 
as if to hear the better, had taken off his poAvdered Avig, 
and sat there, looking very strange indeed Avith his OAvn 
close-cropped, black poll. 

At last Mr. Dance finished the story. 

“ Mr. Dance,” said the squire, “ you are a very noble 
fellow And as for riding down that black, atrocious 


THE captain’s PAPERS 


47 


miscreant, I regard it as an act of virtue, sir, like stamp- 
ing on a cockroach. This lad Hawkins is a trump, I 
perceive. Hawkins, will you ring that bell ? Mr. 
Dance must have some ale.’’ 

“ And so, Jim,” said the doctor, “ you have the thing 
that they were after, have you ?” 

Here it is, sir,” said I, and gave him the oilskin 
packet. 

The doctor looked it all over, as if his fingers were 
itching to open it ; but, instead of doing that, he put it 
quietly in the pocket of his coat. 

“ Squire,” said he, ‘‘ when Dance has had his ale he 
must, of course, be off on his Majesty’s service ; but I 
mean to keep Jim Hawkins here to deep at my house, 
and, with your permission, I propose we should have up 
the cold pie, and let him sup.” 

As you will, Livesey,” said the squire ; “ Hawkins 
has earned better than cold pie.” 

So a big pigeon pie was brought in and put on a side- 
table, and I made a hearty supper, for I was as hungry 
as a hawk, while Mr. Dance was further complimented, 
and at last dismissed. 

“ And now, squire,” said the doctor. 

“ And now, Livesey,” said the squire, in the same 
breath. 

“ One at a time, one at a titne,” laughed Dr. Livesey. 
“ You have heard -of this Flint, I suppose ? ” 

Heard of him ! ” cried the squire, “ Heard of him, 


48 


TREASURE ISLAND 


you say ! He was the bloodthirstiest buccaneer that 
sailed. Blackbeard was a child to Flint. The Span- 
iards were so prodigiously afraid of him, that, I tell 
you, sir, I was sometimes pioud he was an Englishman. 
I’ve seen his top-sails with these eyes, off Trinidad, and 
the cowardly son of a rum-puncheon that I sailed with 
put back — put back, sir, into Port of Spain.” 

Well, I’ve heard of him myself, in England,” said 
the doctor. But the point is, had he money ? ” 

“ Money ! ” cried the squire. “ Have you heard the 
story ? What were these villains after but money ? 
What do they care for but money ? For what would 
they risk their rascal carcases but money ? ” 

“ That we shall soon kiiow,” replied the doctor. 
“ But you are so confoundedly hot-headed and exclama- 
tory that I cannot get a word in. What I want to know 
is this : Supposing that I have here in my pocket some 
clue to where Flint buried his treasure, will that treas- 
ure amount to much ? ” 

‘‘ Amount, sir ! ” cried the squire. It will amount 
to this : if we have the clue you talk about, I fit 
out a ship in Bristol dock, and take you and Hawkins 
here along, and I’ll have that treasure if I search a 
year.” 

Very well,” said the doctor. ^‘Now, then, if Jim 
is agreeable, we’ll open the packet ; ” and he laid it 
before him on the table. 

The bundle was sewn together, and the doctor had to 


THE captain’s PAPERS 


49 


get out his instrument-case, and cut the stitches with 
his medical scissors. It contained two things — a book 
and a sealed paper. 

“ First of all we’ll try the book,” observed the doctor. 

The squire and I were both peering over his shoulder 
as he opened it, for Dr. Livesey had kindly motioned me 
to come round from the side-table, where I had been 
eating, to enjoy the sport of the search. On the first 
page there were only some scraps of writing, such as a 
man with a pen in his hand might make for idleness or 
practice. One was the same as the tattoo mark, “ Billy 
Bones his fancy ; ” then there was Mr. W. Bones, 
mate.” No more rum.” “ Off Palm Key he got 
itt ; ” and some other snatches, mostly single words and 
unintelligible. I could not help wondering who it was 
that had got itt,” and what itt ” was that he got. A 
knife in his back as like as not. 

Not much instruction there,” said Dr. Livesey, as 
he passed on. 

The next ten or twelve pages were filled with a 
curious series of entries. There was a date at one end 
of the line and at the other a sum of money, as in com- 
mon account-books ; but instead of explanatory writing, 
only a varying number of crosses between the two. On 
the 12th of June, 1745, for instance, a sum of seventy 
pounds had plainly become due to someone, and there 
was nothing but six crosses to explain the cause. In a 
few cases, to be sure, the name of a place would be 
4 ... 


60 


TREASURE ISLAND 


added, as Offe Caraccas or a mere entry of latitude 
and longitude, as 62'^ 17' 20", 19° 2' 40".” 

The record lasted over nearly twenty years, the 
amount of the separate entries growing larger as time 
went on, and at the end a grand total had been made 
out after five or six wrong additions, and these words 
appended, “ Bones, his pile.” 

I canT make head or tail of this,” said Dr. Livesey. 

The thing is as clear as noonday,” cried the squire. 

This is the black-hearted hound’s account-book. 
These crosses stand for the names of ships or towns that 
they sank or plundered. The sums are the scoundrel’s 
share, and where he feared an ambiguity you see he 
added something clearer. ^ Olfe Caraccas,’ now ; you 
see, here was some unhappy vessel boarded off that 
coast. God help the poor souls that manned her — coral 
long ago.” 

“ Right ! ” said the doctor. See what it is to be a 
traveller. Right ! And the amounts increase, you see, 
as he rose in rank.” 

There was little else in the volume but a few bearings 
of places noted in the blank leaves towards the end, and 
a table for reducing French, English, and Spanish 
moneys to a common value. 

“Thrifty man !” cried the doctor. “ He wasn’t the 
one to be cheated.” 

“And now,” said the squire, “for the other.” 

The paper had been sealed in several places with a 


THE CAPTAIN’S PAPERS 


51 


thimble by way of seal ; the very thimble, perhaps, that 
I had found in the captain’s pocket. The doctor opened 
the seals with great care, and there fell out the map of 
an island, with latitude and longitude, soundings, names 
of hills, and bays and inlets, and every particular that 
would be needed to bring a ship to a safe anchorage 
upon its shores. It was about nine miles long and five 
across, shaped, you might say, like a fat dragon stand- 
ing up, and had two fine land-locked harbours, and a 
hill in the centre part marked “ The Spy-glass.” There 
were several additions of a later date ; but, above all, 
three crosses of red ink — two on the north part of the 
island, one in the south-west, and, beside this last, in 
the same red ink, and in a small, neat hand, very dif- 
ferent from the captain’s tottery characters, these words : 
— “ Bulk of treasure here.” 

Over on the back the same hand had written this 
further information : — 

“ Tall tree, Spy-glass shoulder, bearing a point to the N. ol 
N.N.E. 

“ Skeleton Island E.S.E. and by E. 

“ Ten feet. 

“ The bar silver is in the north cache ; you can find it by the 
trend of the east hummock, ten fathoms south of the black crag 
with the face on it. 

“The arms are easy found, in the sand hill, N. point of north 
inlet cape, bearing E. and a cpiarter N. “J. P.” 

That was all ; but" brief as it was, and, to me, incom- 


62 


TREASURE ISLAND 


preliensible, it filled the squire and Dr. Livesey with 
delight. 

“ Livesey,” said the squire, ** you will give up this 
wretched practice at once. To-morrow I start for 
Bristol. In three weeks’ time — three weeks ! — two 
weeks — ten days — we’ll have the best ship, sir, and the 
choicest crew in England. Hawkins shall come as cabin- 
boy. You’ll make a famous cabin-boy, Hawkins. You, 
Livesey, are ship’s doctor ; I am admiral. We’ll take 
Redruth, Joyce, and Hunter. We’ll have favourable 
winds, a quick passage, and not the least difficulty in 
finding the spot, and money to eat — to roll in — to play 
duck and drake with ever after.” 

“ Trelawney,” said the doctor, ‘‘I’ll go with you; 
and. I’ll go bail for it, so will Jim, and be a credit to 
the undertaking. There’s only one man I’m afraid 
of.” 

“ And who’s that ? ” cried the squire. “ Name the 
dog, sir ! ” 

“ You,” replied the doctor ; “ for you cannot hold 
your tongue. We are not the only men who know of 
this paper. These fellows who attacked the inn to- 
night — bold, desperate blades, for sure — and the rest 
who stayed aboard that lugger, and more, I dare say, 
not far off, are, one and all, through thick and thin, 
bound that they’ll get that money. We must none of 
us go alone till we get to sea. Jim and I shall stick 
together in the meanwhile ; you’ll take Joyce and 


THE captain’s PAPERS 


63 


Hunter when you ride to Bristol, and, from first to 
last, not one of us must breathe a word of what we\e 
found.” 

‘^Livesey,” returned the squire, ‘^you are always in 
the right of it. I’ll be as silent as the grave.” 


part n 

THE SEA COOK 


CHAPTER VII 

I GO TO BRISTOL 

It was longer than the squire imagined ere we were 
ready for the sea, and none of our first plans — not even 
Dr. Livesey’s of keeping me beside him — could be 
carried out as we intended. The doctor had to go to 
London for a physician to take charge of his practice ; 
the squire was hard at work at Bristol ; and I lived 
on at the Hall under the charge of old Redruth, the 
gamekeeper, almost a prisoner, but full of sea-dreams 
and the most charming anticipations of strange islands 
and adventures. I brooded by the hour together over 
the map, all the details of which I well remembered. 
Sitting by the fire in the housekeeper’s room, I ap- 
proached that island in my fancy, from every possible 
direction ; I explored every acre of its surface ; I 
climbed a thousand times to that tall hill they call the 
Spy-glass, and from the top enjoyed the most wonderful 
and changing prospects. Sometimes the isle was thick 


t GO TO BRISTOL 


66 


with savages, with whom we fought ; sometimes full of 
dangerous animals that hunted us ; but in all my 
fancies nothing occurred to me so strange and tragic 
as our actual adventures. 

So the weeks passed on, till one fine day there came 
a letter addressed to Dr. Livesey, with this addition, 
“To be opened, in the case of his absence, by Tom 
Redruth, or young Hawkins.” Obeying this order, we 
found, or rather, I found — for the gamekeeper was a 
poor hand at reading anything but print — the follow- 
ing important news : — 

“Old Anchor Inn, Bristol, March 1, 17 — . 

“Dear Livesey, — As I do not knpw whether you are at the 
Hall, or still in London, I send this in double to both places, 

“ The ship is bought and fitted. She lies at anchor, ready for 
sea. You never imagined a sweeter schooner — a child might 
sail her — two hundred tons ; name, Hispaniola. 

“I got her through my old friend. Blandly, who has proved 
himself throughout the most surprising trump. The admirable 
fellow literally slaved in my interest, and so, I may say, did 
everyone in Bristol, as soon as they got wind of the port we 
sailed for — treasure, I mean.” 

“ Redruth,” said I, interrupting the letter, “ Dr. 
Livesey will not like that. The squire has been talk- 
ing, after all.” 

“ Well, who’s a better right ? ” growled the game- 
keeper. “ A pretty rum go if squire ain’t to talk for 
Dr. Livesey, 1 should think.” 


66 


TREAbuRE ISLAND 


At that I gave up all attempt at commentary, and 
read straight on ; — 

“Blandly himself found the Hispaniola, and by the most 
admirable management got her for the merest trifle. There is a 
class of men in Bristol monstrously prejudiced against Blandly. 
They go the length of declaring that this honest creature would 
do anything for money, that the Hispaniola belonged to him, 
and that he sold it me absurdly high — the most transparent 
calumnies. None of them dare, however, to deny the merits 
of the ship. 

“ So far there was not a hitch. The workpeople, to be sure — 
riggers and what not — were most annoyingly slow ; but time 
cured that. It was the crew that troubled me. 

“ I wished a round score of men — in case of natives, bucca- 
neers, or the odious French — and I had the worry of the deuce 
itself to And so much as half a dozen, till the most remarkable 
stroke of fortune brought me the very man that I required. 

“ 1 was standing on the dock, when, by the merest accident, 
I fell in talk with him. I found he was an old sailor, kept a 
public-house, knew all the seafaring men in Bristol, had lost his 
health ashore, and wanted a good berth as cook to get to sea 
again. He had hobbled down there that morning, he said, to 
get a smell of the salt. 

“ I was monstrously touched — so would you have been — and, 
out of pure pity, I engaged him on the spot to be ship’s cook. 
Long John Silver, he is called, and has lost a leg ; but that I 
regarded as a recommendation, since he lost it in his country’s 
service, under the immortal Hawke. He has no pension, Live- 
sey. Imagine the abominable age we live in ! 

“Well, sir, I thought I had only found a cook, but it was a 
crew I had discovered. Between Silver and myself we got 


1 GO TO BRISTOL 


67 


together in a few days a company of the toughest old salts 
imaginable — not pretty to look at, but fellows, by their faces, of 
the most indomitable spirit. I declare we could fight a frigate. 

“ Long John even got rid of two out of the six or seven I had 
already engaged. He showed me in a moment that they were 
just the sort of fresh water swabs we had to fear in an adven- 
ture of importance. 

“ I am in the most magnificent health and spirits, eating like 
a bull, sleeping like a tree, yet I shall not enjoy a moment till I 
hear my old tarpaulins tramping round the capstan. Seaward 
ho ! Hang the treasure ! It’s the glory of the sea that has 
turned my head. So now, Livesey, come post ; do not lose an 
hour, if you respect me. 

“ Let young Hawkins go at once to see his mother, with Red- 
ruth for a guard ; and then both come full speed to Bristol. 

“John Trelawney. 

“ Postscript . — I did not tell you that Blandly, who, by the way, 
is to send a consort after us if vve don’t turn up by the end of 
August, had found an admirable fellow for sailing master — a stiff 
man, which I regret, but, in all other respects, a treasure. Long 
John Silver unearthed a very competent man for a mate, a man 
named Arrow. I have a boatswain who pipes, Livesey ; so things 
shall go man-o-war fashion on board the good ship Hispaniola. 

“ I forgot to tell you that Silver is a man of substance ; I know 
of my own knowledge that he has a banker’s account, which has 
never been overdrawn. He leaves his wife to manage the inn ; 
and as she is a woman of colour, a pair of old bachelors like you 
and I may be excused for guessing that it is the wife, quite as 
much as the health, that sends him back to roving. 

“J. T. 

“ P.P.S. — Hawkins may stay one night with his mother. 

“J. T.” 


68 


TREASURE ISLAND 


You can fancy the excitement into which that letter 
put me. I was half beside myself with glee ; and if 
ever I despised a man, it was old Tom Bed ruth, who 
could do nothing but grumble and lament. Any of the 
under-gamekeepers would gladly have changed places 
with him ; but such was not the squire’s pleasure, and 
the squire’s pleasure was like law among them all. 
Nobody but old Kedruth would have dared so much as 
even to grumble. 

The next morning he and I set out on foot for the 
“ Admiral Benbow,” and there I found my mother in 
good health and spirits. The captain, who had so long 
been a cause of so much discomfort, Avas gone w'here 
the wicked cease from troubling. The squire had had 
everything repaired, and the public rooms and the sign 
repainted, and had added some furniture — above all a 
beautiful arm-chair for mother in the bar. He had 
found her a boy as an apprentice also, so that she should 
not want help while I was gone. 

It was on seeing that boy that I understood, for the 
first time, my situation. I had thought up to that mo- 
ment of the adventures before me, not at all of the home 
that I was leaving ; and now, at sight' of this clumsy 
stranger, who was to stay here in my place beside my 
mother, I had my first attack of tears. I am afraid I led 
that boy a dog s life ; for as he was new to the work, I 
had a hundred opjiortunities of setting him right and 
putting him down, and I was not slow to profit by them. 


I GO TO BRISTOL 


^9 


The night passed, and the next day, after dinner, 
Redruth and I were afoot again, and on the road. I 
said good-bye to mother and the cove where I had lived 
since I was born, and the dear old “ Admiral Benbow” 
— since he was repainted, no longer quite so dear. One 
of my last thoughts was of the captaiu, who had so often 
strode along the beach with his cocked hat, his sabre- 
cut cheek, and his old brass telescope. Next moment 
we had turned the corner, and my home was out of 
sight. 

The mail picked us up about dusk at the Royal 
George ” on the heath. I was wedged in between Red- 
ruth and a stout old gentleman, and in spite of the 
swift motion and the cold night air, I must have dozed a 
great deal from the very first, and then slept like a log 
up hill and down dale through stage after stage ; for 
when I was awakened, at last, it was by a punch in the 
i-ibs, and I opened my eyes, to find that we were stand- 
ing still before a large building in a city street, and 
that the day had already broken a long time. 

“ Where are we ? I asked. 

“Bristol,” said Tom. “Get down.” 

Mr. Trelawney had taken up his residence at an inn 
far down the docks, to superintend the work upon the 
schooner. Thither we had now to walk, and our way, 
to my great delight, lay along the quays and beside the 
great multitude of ships of all sizes and rigs and nations. 
In one, sailors were singing at theii’ work ; iu another. 


60 


TREASUBE ISLAND 


there were men aloft, high over my head, hanging to 
threads that seemed no thicker than a spider’s. Though 
I had lived by the shore all my life, I seemed never to 
have been near the sea till then. The smell of tar and 
salt was something ntw. I saw the most wonderful 
figureheads, that had all been far over the ocean. I saw, 
besides, many old sailors, with rings in their ears, and 
whiskers curled in ringlets, and tarry pigtails, and their 
swaggering, clumsy sea-walk ; and if I had seen as many 
kings or archbishops I could not have been more 
delighted. 

And I was going to sea myself ; to sea in a schooner, 
with a piping boatswain, and pig-tailed singing seamen ; 
to sea, bound for an unknown island, and to seek for 
buried treasures ! 

While I was still in this delightful dream, we came 
suddenly in front of a large inn, and met Squire Tre- 
lawney, all dressed out like a sea-officer, in stout blue 
cloth, coming out of the door with a smile on his face, 
and a capital imitation of a sailor’s walk. 

“ Here you are,” he cried, and the doctor came last 
night from London. Bravo ! the ship’s company com- 
plete ! ” 

“ Oh, sir,” cried I, “ when do we sail ? ” 

Sail !” says he. “We sail to-morrow !” 


CHAPTER VIII 


AT THE SIGH OF THE “ SPY-GLASS ” 

Wheh I had done breakfasting the squire gave me a 
note addressed to John Silver, at the sign of the “Spy- 
glass,'’ and told me I should easily find the place by 
following the line of the docks, and keeping a bright 
look-out for a little tavern with a large brass telescope 
for sign. I set off, overjoyed at this opportunity to 
see some more of the ships and seamen, and picked my 
way among a great crowd of people and carts and bales, 
for the dock was now at its busiest, until I found the 
tavern in question. 

It was a bright enough little place of entertainment. 
The sign was newly painted ; the windows had neat red 
curtains ; the fioor was cleanly sanded. There was a 
street on either side, and an open door on both, which 
made the large, low room pretty clear to see in, in spite 
of clouds of tobacco smoke. 

The customers were mostly seafaring men ; and they 
talked so loudly that I hung at the door, almost afraid 
to enter. 

As I was waiting, a man came out of the side room, 
and, at a glance, I was sure he must be Long John. 


62 


TKEASURE ISLAND 


His left leg was cut off close by the hip, and under the 
left shoulder he carried a crutch, which he managed 
with wonderful dexterity, hopping about upon it like a 
bird. He was very tall and strong, with a face as big 
as a ham — plain and pale, but intelligent and smiling. 
Indeed, he seemed in the most cheerful spirits, whistling 
as he moved about among the tables, with a merry word or 
a slap on the shoulder for the more favoured of his guests. 

Now, to tell you the truth, from the very first men- 
tion of Long John in Squire Trelawney^s letter, I had 
taken a fear in my mind that he might prove to be the 
very one-legged sailor whom I had watched for so long 
at the old “Benbow.” But one look at the man before 
me was enough. I had seen the captain, and Black Dog, 
and the blind man Pew, and I thought I knew what a 
buccaneer was like — a very different creature, according 
to me, from this clean and pleasant-tempered landlord. 

I plucked up courage at once, crossed the threshold, 
and walked right up to the man where he stood, propped 
on his crutch, talking to a customer. 

Mr. Silver, sir V" I asked, holding out the note. 

“Yes, my lad,” said he ; “ such is my name, to be 
sure. And who may you be ? ” And then as he saw 
the squire’s letter, he seemed to me to give something 
almost like a start. 

“Oh!” said he, quite loud, and offering his hand, 
“I see. You are our new cabin-boy ; pleased I am to 
see you.” 


AT THE SIGN OF THE “ SPY-GLASS 


63 


And he took my hand in liis large firm grasp. 

Just then one of the customers at the far side rose 
suddenly and made for the door. It was close by him, 
and he was out iii the street in a moment. But his 
hurry had attracted my notice, and I recognised him 
at a glance. It was the tallow-faced man, wanting two 
fingers, who had come first to the “ Admiral Benbow.” 

“Oh,” I cried, “stop him ! it’s Black Dog !” 

“ I don’t care two coppers who he is,” cried Silver. 
“ But he hasn’t paid his score. Harry, run and catch 
him.” 

One of the others who was nearest the door leaped 
up, and started in pursuit. 

“If he were Admiral Hawke he shall pay his score,” 
cried Silver ; and then, relinquishing my hand — “ Who 
did you say he was ? ” he asked. “ Black what ? ” 

“ Dog, sir,” said I. “ Has Mr. Trelawney not told 
you of the buccaneers ? He was one of them.” 

“ So ? ” cried Silver. “ In my house ! Ben, run and 
help Harry. One of those swabs, Avas he ? Was that 
yon drinking AAuth him, Morgan ? Step up here.” 

’The man whom he called Morgan — an old, grey- 
ha Ared, mahogany-faced sailor — came forward pretty 
sheepishly, rolling his quid. 

“Now, Morgan,” said Long John, very sternly; 

you never clapped your eyes on that Black — Black 
Dog before, did you, now ?” 

“Not I, sir,” said Morgan, with a salute. 


64 


TREASURE ISLAND 


You didn’t know his name, did you ? ” 

^‘No, sir.” 

By the powers, Tom Morgan, it’s as good for you ! ” 
exclaimed the landlord. you Lad been mixed up 

with the like of that, you would never have put another 
foot in my house, you may lay to that. And what was 
he saying to you ? ” . 

don’t rightly know, sir,” answered Morgan. 

“ Do you call that a head on your shoulders, or a 
blessed dead-eye ?” cried Long John. Don’t rightly 
know, don’t you ! Perhaps you don’t happen to rightly 
know who you was speaking to, perhaps ? Come, now, 
what was he jawing — v’yages, cap’ns, ships ? Pipe up ! 
What was it ? ” 

“ We was a-talkin’ of keel-hauling,” answered Morgan. 

“ Keel-hauling, was you ? and a mighty suitable 
thing, too, and you may lay to that. Get back to your 
place for a lubber, Tom.” 

And then, as Morgan rolled back to his seat. Silver 
added to me in a confidential whisper, that was very 
flattering, as I thought : 

‘‘ He’s quite an honest man, Tom Morgan, on’y 
stupid. And now,” he ran on again, aloud, “ let’s see 
— Black Dog ? No, I don’t know the name, not I. 
Yet I kind of think I’ve — yes, I’ve seen the swab. He 
used to come here with a blind beggar, he used.” 

^^That he did, you may be sure,” said I. “I knew 
that blind man, too. His name was Pew,” 


AT THE SIGN OF THE “ SPY-GLASS 


65 


**It cried Silver, now quite excited. ‘‘Pew! 

That were his name for certain. Ah, he looked a shark, 
he did ! If we run down this Black Dog, now, there’ll 
be news for Cap’n Trelawney ! Ben’s a good runner ; 
few seamen run better than Ben. He should run him 
down, hand over hand, by the powers ! He talked o' 
keel-hauling, did he ? Pll keel-haul him ! ” 

All the time he was jerking out these phrases he was 
stumping up and down the tavern on his crutch, slap- 
ping tables with his hand, and giving such a show of 
excitement as would have convinced an Old Bailey 
judge or a Bow Street runner. My suspicions had 
been thoroughly re-awakened on finding Black Dog at 
the ‘^Spy-glass,” and I watched the cook narrowly. 
But he was too deep, and too ready, and too clever for 
me, and by the time the two men had come back out 
of breath, and confessed that they had lost the track 
in a crowd, and been scolded like thieves, I would have 
gone bail for the innocence of Long John Silver. 

See here, now, Hawkins,” said he, here’s a blessed 
hard thing on a man like me, now, ain’t it. There’s 
Cap’n Trelawney — what’s he to think ? Here I have 
this confounded son of a Dutchman sitting in my own 
house, drinking of my own rum ! Here you comes 
and tells me of it plain ; and here I let him give us 
all the slip before my blessed dead-lights ! Now, Haw- 
kins, you do me justice with the cap’n. You’re a lad, 
you are, but you’re as smart as paint. I see that when 


66 


TREASUEE ISLAND 


you first came in. Now, here it is : What could I do, 
with this old timber I hobble on ? When 1 was an A B 
master mariner I^d have come up alongside of him, 
hand over hand, and broached him to in a brace of old 

shakes, I would ; but now ” 

And then, all of a sudden, he stopped, and his jaw 
dropped as though he had remembered something. 

“ The score,” he burst out. “ Three goes o’ rum ! 
Why, shiver my timbers, if I hadn’t forgotten my score ! ” 
And, falling on a bench, he laughed until the tears 
ran down his cheeks. I could not help joining ; and 
we laughed together, peal after peal, until the tavern 
rang again. 

“ Why, what a precious old sea-calf I am ! ” he said, 
at last, Aviping his cheeks. “You and me should get 
on well, Hawkins, for I’ll take my davy I should be 
■rated ship’s boy. But, come, noAV, stand by to go about. 
This won’t do. Booty is dooty, messmates. I’ll put 
on my old cocked hat, and step along of you to Cap’n 
TrelaAvney, and report this here affair. For, mind you, 
it’s serious, young Hawkins ; and neither you nor me’s 
come out of it with what I should make so bold as to 
call credit. Nor you neither, says you ; not sm-art — 
none of the pair of us smart. But dash my buttons ! 
that was a good ’un about my score.” 

And he began to laugh again, and that so heartily, 
that though I did not see the joke as he did, I was 
again obliged to join him in his mirth. 


AT THK SIGN OF THE “ SPY-GLASS ” 


67 


On our little walk along the quays, he made himself 
the most interesting companion, telling me about the 
clitferent ships that we passed by, their rig, tonnage, 
and nationality, explaining the work that was going 
forward — how one was discharging, another taking in 
cargo, and a third making ready for sea ; and every 
now and then telling me some little anecdote of ships 
or seamen, or repeating a nautical phrase till I had 
learned it perfectly. I began to see that here was one 
of the best of possible shipmates. 

When we got to the inn, the squire and Dr. Livesey 
were seated together, finishing a quart of ale with a 
toast in it, before they should go aboard the schooner 
on a visit of inspection. 

Long John told the story from first to last, with a great 
deal of spirit and the most perfect truth. “ That w'as 
how it were, now, werenT it, Hawkins ? ” he would say, 
now and again, and I could always bear him entirely out. 

The two gentlemen regretted that Black Dog had 
got away ; but we all agreed there was nothing to be 
done, and after he had been complimented. Long John 
took u]) his crutch and departed. 

“ All hands aboard by four this afternoon,” shouted 
the squire after him. 

Ay, ay, sir,” cried the cook, in the passage. 

Well, squire,” said Dr. Livesey, “ I don’t put much 
faith in your discoveries, as a general thing ; but 1 will 
say this, John Silver suits me.” 


08 


TREASURE ISLAND 


** The man’s a perfect trump/’ declared the squire. 
And now,” added the doctor, Jim may come on 
board with us, may he not ? ” 

“ To be sure he may,” says squire. 

Hawkins, and we’ll see the ship.” 


Take your hatj 


CHAPTER IX 


POWDER AND ARMS 

The Hispaniola lay some way out, and we went under 
the figureheads and round the sterns of many other 
ships, and their cables sometimes grated underneath our 
keel, and sometimes swung above us. At last, however, 
we got alongside, and were met and saluted as we 
stepped aboard by the mate, Mr, Arrow, a brown old 
sailor, with earrings in his ears and a squint. He and 
the squire were very thick and friendly, but 1 soon 
observed that things were not the same between Mr- 
Trelawney and the captain. 

This last was a sharp-looking man, who seemed angry 
with everything on board, and was soon to tell us why, 
for we had hardly got down into the cabin when a sailor 
followed us. 

“Captain Smollett, sir, axing to speak with you," 
said he. 

“ I am always at the captain’s orders. Show him in^" 
said the squire. 

The captain who was close behind his messenger 
entered at once, and shut the door behind him. 


ro 


TREASURE ISLA2JD 


“ Well, Captain Smollett, what have you to say :■ 
All well, I hope ; all shipshape and seaworthy ? ” 

“ Well, sir,” said the captain, “ better speak plain, 1 
believe, even at the risk of offence. I don’t like this 
cruise ; 1 don’t like the men ; and I don’t like my 
officer. That’s short and sweet.” 

“Perhaps, sir, you don’t like the ship?” inquired 
the squire, very angry, as I could see. 

“ I can’t speak as to that, sir, not having seen her 
tried,” said the captain. “ She seems a clever craft ; 
more I can’t say.” 

“ Possibly, sir, you may not like your employer, 
either ? ” says the squire. 

But here Dr. Livesey cut in. 

“ Stay a bit,” said he, “ stay a bit. No use of such 
questions as that but to produce ill-feeling. The cap- 
tain has said too much or he has said too little, and I’m 
bound to say that I require an explanation of his words. 
You don’t, you say, like this cruise. Now, Avhy ? ” 

“ I was engaged, sir, on what we call sealed orders, to 
sail this ship for that gentleman where he should bid 
me,” said the captain. “ So far so good. But now I 
find that every man before the mast knows more than 
I do. I don’t call that fair, now, do you ? ” 

“No,” said Dr. Livesey, “ I don’t.” 

“ Next,” said the captain, “ I learn we are going after 
treasure — hear it from my own hands, mind you. Now, 
treasure is ticklish work ; I don’t like treasure voyages 


POWDER AND ARMS 


71 


on any account ; and I don’t like them, above all, when 
they are secret, and when (begging your pardon, Mr. 
Trelawney) the secret has been told to the parrot.” 

Silver’s parrot ? ” asked the squire. 

“ It’s a way of speaking,” said the captain. “ Blabbed, 
I mean. It’s my belief neither of you gentlemen know 
what you are about ; but I’ll tell you my way of it — life 
or death, and a close run.” 

“ That is all clear, and, I daresay, true enough,” 
replied Dr. Livesey. ‘MVe take the risk; but we are 
not so ignorant as you believe us. Next, you say you 
don’t like the crew. Are they not good seamen ? ” 

“ I don’t like them, sir,” returned Captain Smollett. 
“ And I think I should have had the choosing of my 
own hands, if you go to that.” 

Perhaps you should,” replied the doctor. “ My 
friend should, perhaps, have taken you along with him ; 
but the slight, if there be one, was unintentional. And 
you v.Du’t like Mr. Arrow ?” 

“ I don’t, sir. I believe he’s a good seaman ; but 
he’s too free with the crew to be a good officer. A mate 
should keep himself to himself — shouldn’t drink with 
the men before the mast ! ” 

“ Do you mean he drinks ?” cried the squire. 

No, sir,” replied the captain ; “ only that he’s too 
familiar.” 

“ Well, now, and the short and long of it, captain 
asked the doctor, “ Tell us what you want.” 


72 


TEEASUEE ISLAND 


“ Well, gentlemen, are you determined to go on thie 
cruise 

Like iron,” answered the squire. 

“ Very good,” said the cai3tain. “ Then, as you’ve 
heard me very patiently, saying things that I could not 
prove, hear me a few words more. They are putting 
tlie powder and the arms in the fore hold. Now, you 
have a good place under the cabin ; why not put them 
there ? — first point. Then you are bringing four of 
your own people with you, and they tell me some of 
them are to be berthed forward. Why not give them 
the berths here beside the cabin ? — second point.” 

Any more ? ” asked Mr. Trelawney. 

“ One more,” said the captain. “ There’s been too 
much blabbing already.” 

Far too much,” agreed the doctor. 

‘^ril tell you what I’ve heard myself,” continued 
Captain Smollett : that you have a map of an island ; 
that there’s crosses on the map to show where treasure 

is ; and that the island lies ” And then he named 

the latitude and longitude exactly. 

** I never told that,” cried the squire, to a soul ! ” 

The hands know it, sir,” returned the captain. 

Livesey, that must have been you or Hawkins,” 
cried the squire. 

It doesn’t much matter who it was,” replied the 
doctor. And I could see that neither he nor the captain 
paid much regard to Mr. Trelawney’s protestations. 


POWDER and arms 


73 


Neither did I, to be sure, he was so loose a talker ; yet 
in this case I believe he was really right, and tliat 
nobody had told the situation of the island. 

Well, gentlemen,” continued the captain, “ I don’t 
know who has this map ; but I make it a point, it shall 
be kept secret even from me and Mr. Arrow. Other- 
wise I would ask you to let me resign.” 

I see,” said the doctor. “ You wish us to keep this 
matter dark, and to make a garrison of the stern part 
of the ship, manned with my friend’s own people, and 
provided with all the arms and powder on board. In 
other words, you fear a mutiny.” 

“ Sir,” said Captain Smollett, ‘‘ with no intention to 
take offence, I deny your right to put words into my 
mouth. No captain, sir, would be justified in going 
to sea at all if he had ground enough to say that. As 
for Mr. Arrow, I believe him thoroughly honest ; some 
of the men are the same ; all may be for what I know. 
But I am responsible for the ship’s safety and the life of 
every man Jack aboard of her. I see things going, as I 
think, not quite right. And I ask you to take certain 
precautions, or let me resign my berth. And that’s all.” 
“ Captain Smollett,” began the doctor, with a smile, 
did ever you hear the fable of the mountain and the 
mouse ? You’ll excuse me, I daresay, but you remind 
me of that fable. When you came in here I’ll stake my 
wig you meant more than this.” 

“ Poctor,” said the captain, “ you are smart. When 


74 


TREASUBE ISLANI/ 


I came in here I meant to get discharged. I had no 
thought that Mr. Trelawuey would hear a word.” 

No more I would,” cried the squire. “ Had Livesey 
not been here I should have seen you to the deuce. As 
it is, I have heard you. I will do as you desire ; but 
I think the worse of you.” 

Thafs as you please, sir,” said the captain. You’ll 
find I do my duty.” 

And with that he took his leave, 

Trelawney,” said the doctor, “ contrary to all my 
notions, I believe you have managed to get two honest 
men on board with you — that man and Jolin Silver.” 

“Silver, if you like,” cried the squire ; “but as for 
that intolerable humbug, I declare I think his conduct 
unmanly, unsailorly, and downright un-English.” 

“ Well,” says the doctor, “ we shall see.” 

When we came on deck, the men had begun already 
to take out the arms and powder, yo-ho-ing at their 
work, while the captain and Mr. Arrow stood by super- 
intending. 

The new arrangement was quite to my liking. The 
whole schooner had been overhauled ; six berths had 
been made astern, out of what had been the after-part 
of the main hold ; and this set of cabins was only joined 
to the galley and forecastle by a sparred passage on 
the port side. It had been originally meant that the 
captain, IMr. Arrow, Hunter, Joyce, the doctor, and the 
squire were to occupy these six berths. Now, Redruth 


POWDER AND ARMS 


75 


and I were to get two of them, and Mr. Arrow and the 
captain were to sleep on deck in the companion, which 
had been enlarged on each side till you might almost 
have called it a round-house. Very low it was still, 
of course ; but there was room to swing two hammocks, 
and even the mate seemed pleased with the arrange- 
ment. Even he, perhaps, had been doubtful as to the 
crew, but that is only guess ; for, as you shall hear, 
we had not long the benefit of his opinion. 

We were all hard at work, changing the powder and 
the berths, when the last man or two, and Long John 
along with them, came off in a shore-boat. 

The cook came up the side like a monkey for clever- 
ness, and, as soon as he saw what was doing, ‘‘ So ho, 
mates I” says he, what’s this:'” / 

We’re a-changing of the powder. Jack,” answers 

one. 

Why, by the powers,” cried Long John, if we do, 
we’ll miss the morning tide ! ” 

My orders ! ” said the captain shortly. You may 
go below, my man. Hands will want supper.” 

Ay, ay, sir,” answered the cook ; and, touching his 
forelock, he disappeared at once in the direction of 
his galley. 

“ That’s a good man, captain,” said the doctor. 

Very likely, sir,” replied Captain Smollett. Easy 
with that, men — easy,” he ran on, to the fellows who 
were shifting the powder ; and then suddenly observing 


76 


TBEASUBE ISLAND 


me examining the swivel we carried amidships, a long 
brass nine — “Here, you ship’s boy,” he cried, “out o’ 
that 1 Off with you to the cook and get some work.” 

And then as I was hurrying off I heard him say, quite 
loudly, to the doctor ; — 

“ I’ll have no favourites on my ship,” 

I assure you I was quite of the squire’s way of think- 
ing, and hated the captain deeply. 


CHAPTER X 


THE VOYAGE 

All that night we were in a great bustle getting 
things stowed in their place, and boatfuls of the squire’s 
friends, Mr. Blandly and the like, coming otf to wish 
him a good voyage and a safe return. We never luid a 
night at the ‘^Admiral Beubow ” when I had half the 
work ; and I was dog-tired when, a little before dawn, 
the boatswain sounded his pipe, and the crew began to 
man the capstan-bars. I might have been twice as 
weary, yet I would not have left the deck ; all was so 
new and interesting to me — the brief commands, the 
shrill note of the whistle, the men bustling to their 
places in the glimmer of the ship’s lanterns. 

** Now, Barbecue, tip us a stave,” cried one voice. 

The old one,” cried another. 

Ay, ay, mates,” said Long John, who was standing 
by, with his crutch under his arm, and at once broke 
out in the air and words I knew so well — 

“ Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest 

And then the whole crew bore chorus : — 

‘ Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rurat” 


78 


TREASURE ISLAND 


And at the third “ ho ! ” drove the barn before them 
with a will. 

Even at that exciting moment it carried me back to 
the old Admiral lienbow ’’ in a second ; and I seemed 
to hear the voice of the captain piping in the chorus. 
But soon the anchor was short up ; soon it was hanging 
dripping at the bows ; soon the sails began to draw, and 
the land and shipping to flit by on either side ; and 
before 1 could lie down to snatch an hour of slumber 
the Hispaniola had begun her voyage to the Isle of 
fl’reasure. 

I am not going to relate that voyage in detail. It 
was fairly ])rosperous. 'bhe ship proved to be a good 
ship, the crew were capable seamen, and the captain 
thoroughly understood his business.. But before we 
came the length of Treasure Island, two or three things 
had happened which require to be known. 

Mr. Arrow, first of all, turned out even worse than 
the captain had feared. He had no command among 
the men, and people did what they pleased with him. 
But that was by no means the worst of it ; for after a 
day or two at sea he began to appear on deck with hazy 
eye, red cheeks, stuttering tongue, and other marks of 
drunkenness. Time after time he was ordered below in 
disgrace. Sometimes he fell and cut himself ; some- 
times he lay all day long in his little bunk at one side 
of the companion ; sometimes for a day or two he would 
be almost sober and attend to his work at least passably. 


THE VOYAGE 


79 


in the meantime, we could never make out where he 
got the drink. That was the ship’s mystery. Watch 
him as we pleased, we could do nothing to solve it; 
and when we asked him to his face, he would only 
laugh, if he were drunk, and if he were sober, deny 
solemnly that he ever tasted anything but water. 

He was not only useless as an officer, and a bad influ- 
ence amongst the men, but it was plain that at this rate 
he must soon kill himself outright ; so nobody was much 
surprised, nor very sorry, when one dark night, with 
head sea, he disappeared entirely and was seen no more. 

Overboard ! ” said the captain. “ AVell, gentlemen, 
that saves the trouble of putting him in irons.” 

But there we were, without a mate ; and it was 
necessary, of course, to advance one of the men. The 
boatswain. Job Anderson, was the likeliest man aboard, 
and, though he kept his old title, he served in a way 
as mate. Mr. Trelawney had followed the sea, and his 
knowledge made him very useful, for he often took a 
watch himself in easy weather. And the coxswain, 
Israel Hands, was a careful, wily, old, experienced 
seaman, who could be trusted at a pinch with almost 
anything. 

He was a great confidant of Long John Silver, and 
so the mention of his name leads me on to speak of 
our ship’s cook. Barbecue, as the men called him. 

Aboard ship he carried his crutch by a lanyard round 
his neck, to have both hands as free as possible. It was 


80 


TREASURE ISLAND 


something to see him wedge the foot of the crutch 
against a bulkhead, and, propped against it, yielding to 
every movement of the ship, get on with his cooking 
like someone safe ashore. Still more strange was it to 
see him in the heaviest of weather cross the deck. He 
had a line or two rigged up to help him across the 
widest spaces — Long John’s earrings, they were called ; 
and he would hand himself from one place to another, 
now using the crutch, now trailing it alongside by the 
lanyard, as quickly as another man could walk. Yet 
some of the men who had sailed with him before ex- 
pressed their pity to see him so reduced. 

He’s no common man, Barbecue,” said the cox- 
swain to me. He had good schooling in his young 
days, and can speak like a book when so minded ; and 
brave — a lion’s nothing alongside of Long John ! I seen 
him grapple four, aud knock their heads together — him 
unarmed.” 

All the crew respected and even obeyed him. He had 
a way of talking to each, and doing everybody some 
particular service. To me he was unweariedly kind ; 
and always glad to see me in the galley, which he kept 
as clean as a new pin; the dishes' hanging up bur- 
nished and his parrot in a cage in one corner. 

Come away, Hawkins,” he would say ; “ come and 
have a yarn with John. Nobody more welcome than 
yourself, my son. Sit you down and hear the news. 
Here’s Cap’n Flint — I calls my parrot Cap’n Flint, 


THE VOYAGE 


81 


after the famous buccaneer — here’s Cap’n Flint pre- 
dicting success to our v’yage. Wasn’t you, cap’n ?” 
And the parrot would say, with great rapidity. 
Pieces of eight ! pieces of eight ! pieces of eight ! ” 
till you wondered that it was not out of breath, or till 
John threw his handkerchief over the cage. 

Now, that bird,” he would say, “ is, may be, two 
hundred years old, Hawkins — they lives for ever mostly; 
and if anybody’s seen more wickedness, it must be the 
devil himself. She’s sailed with England, the great 
Cap’n England, the pirate. She’s been at Madagascar, 
and at Malabar, and Surinam, and Providence, and 
Portobello. She was at the fishing up of the wrecked 
plate ships. It’s there she learned ‘ Pieces of eight,’ 
and little wonder ; three hundred and fifty thousand ol 
’em, Hawkins ! She was at the boarding of the Viceroy 
of the Indies out of Goa, she was ; and to look at her 
you would think she was a babby. But you smelt pow- 
der — didn’t you, cap’n ?” 

** Stand by to go about,” the parrot would scream. 

“ Ah, she’s a handsome craft, she is,” the cook would 
say, and give her sugar from his pocket, and then the 
bird would peck at the bars and swear straight on, pass- 
ing belief for wickedness. There,” John would add, 
*^you can’t touch pitch and not be mucked, lad. Here’s 
this poor old innocent bird o’ mine swearing blue fire, 
and none the wiser, you may lay to that. She would 
swear the same, in a manner of speaking, before chap- 
6 


82 


TREASURE ISLAND 


lain/^ And John would touch his forelock with a 
solemn way he had, that made me think he was the 
best of men. 

In the meantime, squire and Captain Smollett were 
still on pretty distant terms with one another. The 
squire made no bones about the matter ; he despised the 
captain. The captain, on his part, never spoke but 
when he was spoken to, and then sharp and short and 
dry, and not a word wasted. He owned, when driven 
into a corner, that he seemed to have been wrong about 
the crew, that some of them were as brisk as he wanted 
to see, and all had behaved fairly well. As for the ship, 
he had taken a downright fancy to her. She’ll lie a 
point nearer the wind than a man has a right to expect 
of his own married wife, sir. But,” he would add, '^all 
I say is we’re not home again, and I don’t like the 
cruise.” 

The squire, at this, would turn away and march up 
and down the deck, chin in air. 

A trifle more of that man,” he would say, and 1 
should explode.” 

We had some heavy weather, which only proved the 
qualities of the Hispaniola. Every man on board seemed 
well content, and they must have been hard to please if 
they had been otherwise ; for it is my belief there was 
never a ship’s company so spoiled since Noah put to sea. 
Double grog was going on the least excuse ; there was 
dull on odd days, as, for instance, if the squire heard 


THE VOYAGE 


83 


it was any man’s birthday ; and always a barrel of apples 
standing broached in the waist, for anyone to help him- 
self that had a fancy. 

Never knew good come of it yet,” the captain said 
to Dr. Livesey. “ Spoil foc’s’le hands, make devils. 
That’s my belief.” 

But good did come of the apple barrel, as you shall 
hear ; for if it had not been for that, we should have had 
no note of warning, and might all have perished by the 
hand of treachery. 

This was how it came about. 

We had run up the trades to get the wind of the 
island we were after — I am not allowed to be more 
plain — and now we were running down for it with a 
bright look-out day and night. It was about the last 
day of our outward voyage, by the largest computation ; 
some time that night, or, at latest, before noon of the 
morrow, we should sight the Treasure Island. We 
were heading S.S.W., and had a steady breeze abeam 
and a quiet sea. The Hispaniola rolled steadily, dip- 
ping her bowsprit now and then with a whiff of spray. 
A.11 was drawing alow and aloft ; everyone was in the 
bravest spirits, because we were now so near an end of 
the first part of our adventure. 

Now, just after sundown, when all my worK was 
over, and I was on my way to my berth, it occurred 
to me that I should like an apple. I ran on deck. 
The watch was all forward looking out for the island. 


84 


TREASURE ISLAND 


The man at the helm was watching the luff of the sail, 
and whistling away gently to himself ; and that was 
tlie only sound excepting the swish of the sea against 
the bows and around the sides of the ship. 

In I got bodily into the apple barrel, and found 
there was scarce an apple left ; but, sitting down there 
in the dark, what with the sound of the waters and the 
rocking movement of the ship, I had either fallen asleep, 
or was on the point of doing so, when a heavy man sat 
down with rather a clash close by. The barrel shook 
as he leaned his shoulders against it, and I was just 
about to jump up vdien the man began to speak. It 
was Silver’s voice, and, before I had heard a dozen 
words, I would not have shown myself for all the world, 
but lay there, trembling and listening, in the extreme 
of fear and curiosity ; for from these dozen words I 
understood that the lives of all the honest men aboarc 
depended upon me alone. 


CHAPTEK XI 


ffHAT I HEARD IH THE APPLE BARREL 

" No, not I,” said Silver. Flint was cap^n ; 1 wah 
juartermaster, along of my timber leg. The same 
broadside I lost my leg, old Pew lost his deadlights. It 
was a master surgeon, him that ampytated me — out of 
college and all — Latin by the bucket, and what not ; but 
he was hanged like a dog, and sun-dried like the rest, 
at Corso Castle. That was Roberts’ men, that was, and 
corned of changing names to their ships — Royal Fortune 
and so on. Now, what a ship was christened, so let her 
jtay, I says. So it was with the Cassandra, as brought 
us all safe home from Malabar, after England took the 
Viceroy of the Indies ; so it was with the old Walrus, 
Flint’s old ship, as I’ve seen a-muck with the red blood 
and fit to sink with gold.” 

'*AhI” cried another voice, that of the youngest 
hand on board, and evidently full of admiration, ** he 
was the fiower of the flock, was Flint ! ” 

‘‘ Davis was a man, too, by all accounts,” said Silver. 
“I never sailed along of him ; first with England, then 
with Flint, that’s my story ; and now here on my own 
account, in a manner of speaking. I laid by nine huu- 


86 


TREASURE ISLAND 


dred safe, from England, and two thousand after Flint. 
That ain’t bad for a man before the mast — all safe in 
bank. ’Taint earning now, it’s saving does it, you 
may lay to that. Where’s all England’s men now ? I 
dunno. Where’s Flint’s ? Why, most on ’em aboard 
here, and glad to get the duff — been begging before 
that, some on ’em. Old Pew, as had lost his sight, and 
might have thought shame, spends twelve hundred 
pound in a year, like a lord in Parliament. Where is 
he now ? Well, he’s dead now and under hatches ; but 
for two year before that, shiver my timbers ! the man 
was starving. He begged, and he stole, and he cut 
throats, and starved at that, by the powers ! ” 

Well, it ain’t much use, after all,” said the young 
seaman. 

‘‘ ’Tain’t much use for fools, you may lay to it — that, 
nor nothing,” cried Silver. “ But now, you look here ; 
you’re young, you are, but you’re as smart as paint. I 
see that when I set my eyes on you, and I’ll talk to you 
like a man.” 

You may imagine how I felt when I heard this abom- 
inable old rogue addressing another in the very same 
. words of flattery as he had used to myself. I think, 
' if I had been able, that T would have killed him 
through the barrel. Meantime, he ran on, little sup 
posing he was overheard. 

I Here it is about gentlemen of fortune. They lives 
^ rough, and they risk swinging, but they eat and drink 


WHAT 1 HEARD IN THE APPLE BARREL 87 


like fighting-cocks, and when a cruise is done, why, it’s 
hundreds of pounds instead of hundreds of farthings 
in their pockets. Now, the most goes for rum and a 
good fling, and to sea again in their shirts. But that’s 
not the course I lay. I puts it all away, some here, 
some there, and none too much anywheres, by reason 
of suspicion. I’m fifty, mark you ; once back from this 
cruise, I set up gentleman in earnest. Time enough, 
too, says you. Ah, but I’ve lived easy in the meantime ; 
never denied myself o’ nothing heart desires, and slep’ 
soft and ate dainty all my days, but when at sea. And 
how did I begin ? Before the mast, like you !” 

“ Well,” said the other, “ but all the other money’s 
gone now, ain’t it ? You daren’t show face in Bristol 
after this.” 

Why, where might you suppose it was ? ” asked 
Silver, derisively. 

‘^‘At Bristol, in banks and places,” answered his 
companion. 

“ It were,” said the cook ; “it were when we 
weighed anchor. But my old missis has it all by now. 
And the * Spy-glass ’ is sold, lease and goodwill and 
rigging ; and the old girl’s off to meet me. I would 
tell yon where, for I trust you ; but it ’nd make 
jealousy among the mates.” 

“ And can you trust your missis ?” asked the other. 

“ Gentlemen of fortune,” returned the cook, “ usually 
trusts little among themselves, and right they are, you 


88 


TKEASURE ISLAND 


may lay to it. But I have a way with me, I have. 
When a mate brings a slip on his cable — one as knows 
me, I mean — it won^t be in the same world with old 
John. There was some that was feared of Pew, and 
some that was feared of Flint ; but Flint his own self 
was feared of me. Feared he was, and proud. They 
was the roughest crew afloat, was Flint’s ; the devil 
himself would have been feared to go to sea with them. 
Well, now, I tell you, I’m not a boasting man, and you 
seen yourself how easy I keep company ; but when I was 
quartermaster, lambs wasn’t the word for Flint’s old 
buccaneers. Ah, you may be sure of yourself in old 
John’s ship.” 

‘‘Well, I tell you now,” replied the lad, “I didn’t 
half a quarter like the job till I had this talk with you, 
John ; but there’s ray hand on it now.” 

“ And a brave lad you were, and smart, too,” an* 
swered Silver, shaking hands so heartily that all the 
barrel shook, “ and a flner figurehead for a gentleman 
of fortune I never clapped my eyes on.” 

By this time I had begun to understand the meaning 
of their terms. By a “ gentleman of fortune ” they 
plainly meant neither more nor less than a common 
pirate, and the little scene that I had overheard was the 
last act in the corruption of one of the honest hands — 
perhaps of the last one left aboard. But on this point I 
was soon to be relieved, for Silver giving a little whistle^ 
a third man strolled up and sat down by the party. 


WUAT I HEARD IN THE APPLE BARREL 89 


Dick’s square/’ said Silver. 

Oh, 1 knovv’d Dick was square,” returned the voice 
of the coxswain, Israel Hands. He's no fool, is Dick.” 
And he turned his quid and spat. “ But, look here,” 
he went on, “ here’s what I want to know. Barbecue : 
how long are we a-going to stand off and on like a 
blessed bumboat ? I’ve had a’most enough o’ Cap’n 
Smollett ; he’s hazed me long enough, by thunder ! I 
want to go into that cabin, I do. I want their pickles 
and wines, and that.” 

Israel,” said Silver, “ your head ain’t much account, 
nor ever was. But you’re able to hear, I reckon ; least- 
ways, your ears is big enough. Now, here’s what I say : 
you’ll berth forward, and you’ll live hard, and you’ll 
speak soft, and you’ll keep sober, till I give the word ; 
and you may lay to that, my son.” 

“ Well, I don’t say no, do I ?” growled the coxswain. 

What I say is, -when ? That’s what I say.” 

**When! by the powers!” cried Silver. “Well, 
now, if you want to know. I’ll tell you when. The last 
moment I can manage ; and that’s when. Here’s a 
first-rate seaman, Cap’n Smollett, sails the blessed ship 
for us. Here’s this squire and doctor with a map and 
such — I don’t know where it is, do I ? No more 
do you, says you. Well, then, I mean this squire 
and doctor shall find the stuff, and help us to get it 
aboard, by the powers. Then we’ll see. If I Avas sure 
of you all, sons of double Dutchmen, I’d have Cap’n 


TRKASURE ISLAND 


DU 

Smollett navigate us half-way back again before I 
struck.” 

by, we're all seamen aboard here, I should think,” 
said the lad Dick. 

“ We’re all foc’s’le hands, you mean,” snapped Silver. 
“ We can steer a course, but who’s to set one ? That’s 
what all you gentlemen split on, first and last. If 1 had 
my way. I’d have Cap’n Smollett work us back into the 
trades at least ; then we’d have no blessed miscalcula- 
tions and a spoonful of water a day. But I know the 
sort you are. I’ll finish with ’em at the island, as soon’s 
the blunt’s on board, and a pity it is. But you’re never 
happy till you’re drunk. Split my sides. I’ve a sick 
heart to sail with the likes of you !” 

'^Easy all, Long John,” cried Israel. “Who’s a- 
crossin’ of you ? ” 

“ Why, how many tall ships, think ye, now, have I 
seen laid aboard ? and how many brisk lads drying in 
the sun at Execution Dock ?” cried Silver, “and all 
for this same hurry and hurry and hurry. You hear 
me ? I seen a thing or two at sea, I have. If you 
would on’y lay your course, and a p’int to windward, 
you would ride in carriages, you would. But not you ! 
I know you. You’ll have your mouthful of rum to- 
morrow, and go hang.” 

“ Everybody know’d you was a kind of a chapling, 
John ; but there’s others as could hand and steer as 
well as you,” said Israel. “ They liked a bit o’ fun. 


WHAT I HEARD IN THE APPLE BARREL 91 


they did. They wasuT so high aud dry, nohow, but 
took their fling, like jolly companions every one.” 

“ So ?” says Silver. Well, and where are they 
now ? Pew was that sort, and he died a beggar-man. 
Flint was, and he died of rum at Savannali. Ah, they 
was a sweet crew, they was ! on’y, where are they ? ” 

“ But,” asked Dick, “ when we do lay ’em athwart, 
what are we to do witli ’em, anyhow ? ” 

“ There’s the man for me ! ” cried the cook, admir- 
ingly. “ That’s what I call business. Well, what 
would you think ? Put ’em ashore like maroons ? That 
would have been England’s way. Or cut ’em down like 
that much pork ? That would have been Flint’s or 
Billy Bones’s.” 

Billy was the man for that,” said Israel. “ ‘ Dead 
men don’t bite,’ says he. Well, he’s dead now hisself , 
he knows the long and short on it now ; and if ever a 
rough hand come to port, it was Billy.” 

Right you are,” said Silver, “ rough and ready. 
But mark you here : I’m an easy man— I’m quite the 
gentleman, says you ; but this time it’s serious. Dooty 
is dooty, mates. I give my vote — death. When I’m 
in Parlyment, and riding in my coach, I don’t want 
none of these sea-lawyers in the cabin a-coming home, 
unlooked for, like the devil at prayers. Wait is what I 
say ; but when the time comes, wliy let lier rip ! ” 

John,” cries the coxswain, ‘"you’re a man !” 

** You’ll say so, Israel, when you see,” said Silver. 


92 


TREASURE ISLAND 


** Only one thing I claim — I claim Trelawney. ni 
wring his calf’s head off his body with these hands. 
Dick ! ” he added, breaking off, you just jump up, 
like a sweet lad, and get me an apple, to wet my pipe 
like.” 

You may fancy the terror I was in ! I should have 
leaped out and run for it, if I had found the strength ; 
but my limbs and heart alike misgave me. I heard 
Dick begin to rise, and then someone seemingly stopped 
him, and the voice of Hands exclaimed : — 

“ Oh, stow that ! Don’t you get sucking of that 
bilge, John. Let’s have a go of the rum.” 

“ Dick,” said Silver, “ I trust you. I’ve a gauge on 
the keg, mind. There’s the key ; you fill a pannikin 
and bring it up.” 

Terrified as I was, I could not help thinking to myself 
that this must have been how Mr. Arrow got the strong 
waters that destroyed him. 

Dick was gone but a little while, and during his 
absence Israel spoke straight on in the cook’s ear. It 
was but a word or two that I could catch, and yet I 
gathered some important news ; for, besides other scraps 
tliat tended to the same purpose, this whole clause was 
audible: Not another man of them ’ll jine.” Hence 
there were still faithful men on board. 

When Dick returned, one after another of the trio 
took the pannikin and drank — one ^‘To luck ;” another 
with a Here’s to old Flint ; ” and Silver himself say- 


WHAT I HEARD IN THE APPLE BARREL 93 


ing^ in a kind of song, “ Here’s to ourselves, and hold 
your luff, plenty of prizes and plenty of duff.” 

Just then a sort of brightness fell upon me in the 
barrel, and, looking up, I found the moon had risen, 
and was silvering the mizzen-top and shining white on 
the luff of the fore-sail ; and almost at the same time 
the voice of the look-out shouted “ Land ho ! ” 


CHAPTER XII 


COUNCIL OF WAR 

There was a great rush of feet across the deck. I 
could hear people tumbling up from the cabin and the 
focVle ; and, slipping in an instant outside my barrel, I 
dived behind the fore-sail, made a double towards the 
stern, and came out upon the open deck in time to join 
Hunter and Dr. Livesey in the rush for the weather 
bow. 

There all hands were already congregated. A belt of 
fog had lifted almost simultaneously with the appear- 
ance of the moon. Away to the south-west of us we saw 
two low hills, about a couple of miles apart, and rising 
behind one of them a third and higher hill, whose peak 
was still buried in the fog. All three seemed sharp and 
conical in figure. 

So much I saw, almost in a dream, for I had not yet 
recovered from my horrid fear of a minute or two before. 
And then I heard the voice of Captain Smollett issuing 
orders. The Hispaniola was laid a couple of points 
nearer the wind, and now sailed a course that would 
Just clear the island on the east. 

*‘Aud now, men,'" said the captain, when all was 


COUNCIL OP WAR 


95 


sheeted home, “ has any one of you ever seen that land 
ahead ? ” 

I have, sir,” said Silver. I’ve watered there with 
a trader I was cook in.” 

“ The anchorage is on the south, behind an islet, I 
fancy ? ” asked the captain. 

Yes, sir ; Skeleton Island they calls it. It were a 
main place for pirates once, and a hand we had on 
board knowed all their names for it. That hill to the 
nor’ard they calls the Fore-mast Hill ; there are three 
hills in a row running south’ard — fore, maiii, and miz- 
zen, sir. But the main — that’s the big ’un with the 
cloud on it — they usually calls the Spy-glass, by reason 
of a look-out they kept when they was in the anchorage 
cleaning ; for it’s there they cleaned their ships, sir, 
asking your pardon.” 

“ I have a chart here,” says Captain Smollett. ‘‘ See 
if that’s the place.” 

Long John’s eyes burned in his head as he took the 
chart ; but, by the fresh look of the paper, I knew he 
was doomed to disappointment. This was not the map 
we found in Billy Bones’s chest, but an accurate copy, 
complete in all things — names and heights and sound- 
ings — with the single exception of the red crosses and 
the written notes. Sharp as must have been his annoy 
ance. Silver had the strength of mind to hide it. 

Yes, sir,” said he, this is the spot to be sure ; and 
very prettily drawed out. Who might hav^e done that, 


96 


TREASURE ISLAND 


I wonder ? The pirates were too ignorant, I reckon. 
Ay, here it is: ^ Capt. Kidd’s Anchorage’ — just the 
name my shipmate called it. There’s a strong current 
runs along the south, and then away nor’ard up the 
west coast. Right you was, sir,” says he, to haul your 
wind and keep the weather of the island. Leastways, 
if such was your intention as to enter and careen, and 
there ain’t no better place for that in these waters.” 

‘‘ Thank you, my man,” says Captain Smollett. 

I’ll ask you, later on, to give us a help. You may 
go.” 

I was surprised at the coolness with which John 
avowed his knowledge of the island ; and I own I was 
half -frightened when I saw him drawing nearer to my- 
self. He did not know, to be sure, that I had over- 
heard his council from the apple barrel, and yet I had, 
by this time, taken such a horror of his cruelty, dupli- 
city, and power, that I could scarce conceal a shuddei 
when he laid his hand upon my arm. 

Ah,” says he, this here is a sweet spot, this 
island — a sweet spot for a lad to get ashore on. You’ll 
bathe, and you’ll climb trees, and you’ll hunt goats, 
you will ; and you’ll get aloft on them hills like a goat 
yourself. Why, it makes me young again. I was going 
to forget my timber leg, I was. It’s a pleasant thing to 
be young, and have ten toes, and you may lay to that. 
When you want to go a bit of exploring, you just ask old 
John, and he’ll put up a snack for you to take along.” 


COUNCIL OF WAR 


97 


And clapping me in the friendliest way upon the 
shoulder, he hobbled off forward and went below. 

Captain Smollett, the squire, and Dr. Livesey were 
^alking together on the quarter-deck, and, anxious as I 
was to tell them my story, I durst not interrupt them 
openly. While I was still casting about in my thoughts 
to find some probable excuse. Dr. Livesey called me to 
his side. He had left his pipe below, and being a slave 
to tobacco, had meant that I should fetch it ; but as 
soon as I was near enough to speak and not to be over- 
lieard, I broke out immediately: “Doctor, let me speak. 
Get the captain and squire down to the cabin, and then 
make some pretence to send for me. I have terrible 
news.’^ 

The doctor changed countenance a little, but next 
moment he was master of himself. 

“Thank you, Jim,” said he, quite loudly, “that 
was all I wanted to know,” as if he had asked me a 
question. 

And with that he turned on his heel and rejoined 
the other two. They spoke together for a little, and 
though none of them started, or raised his voice, or so 
much as whistled, it was plain enough that Dr. Livesey 
had communicated my request ; for the next thing that 
I heard was the captain giving an order to J ob Ander- 
son, and all hands were piped on deck. 

“ My lads,” said Captain Smollett, “ Tve a word to 
say to you. This land that Ave have sighted is the place 
7 


98 


TREASURE ISLAND 


we have been sailing to. Mr. Trelawney, being a very 
open-liandecl gentleman, as we all know, has just asked 
me a word or two, and as 1 was able to tell him tiiat 
every man on board bad done bis duty, alow and aloft, 
as I never ask to see it done better, why, he and 1 and 
tlui doctor are going below to the cabin to drink your 
health and luck, and you’ll have grog served out for you 
to drink our health and luck. I’ll tell you what I 
think of this ; I thint it handsome. And if yon think 
as 1 do, you’ll give a good sea cheer for the gentleman 
that does it.” 

The cheer followed — that was a matter of course ; 
but it rang out so full and hearty, that I confess I could 
hardly believe these same men were plotting for our 
blood. 

“ One more cheer for Cap’n Smollett,” cried Long 
John, wheu the first had subsided. 

And this also was given with a will. 

On the top of that the three gentlemen went below, 
and not long after, word was sent forward that Jim 
Hawkins was wanted in the cabin. 

1 found them all three seated round the table, a 
bottle of Spanish wine and some raisins before them, 
and the doctor smoking away, with his wig on his lap, 
and that, I knew, was a sign that he was agitated, ddie 
stern wi.’idow was open, for it Avas a warm night, and 
you could see the moon shining behind on the ship’s 
wake. 


COUNCIL OF WAR 


99 


Now, Ilawkins,” said the squire, you have some- 
thing to say. Speak up." 

I did as I was bid, and, as short as I could make 
it, told the whole details of Silver^s conversation. 
Nobody interrupted me till I was done, nor did any 
one of the three of them make so much as a move- 
ment, but they kept their eyes upon my face from first 
to last. 

“ Jim," said Dr. Livesey, take a seat.” 

And they made me sit down at table beside them, 
poured me out a glass of wine, filled my hands with 
raisins, and all three, one after the other, and each with 
a bow, drank my good health, and their service to me, 
for my luck and courage. 

*^Now, captain,” said the squire, ''you were right, 
and I was wrong. I own myself an ass, and I await 
your orders.” 

" No more an ass than I, sir,” returned the captain. 
" I never heard of a crew that meant to mutiny but 
what showed signs before, for any man that had an eye 
in his head to see the mischief and take steps according. 
But this crew,” he added, " beats me.” 

"Captain,” said the doctor, "with your permission, 
that’s Silver. A very remarkable man.” 

" He’d look remarkably well from a yard-arm, sir,” 
returned the captain. " But this is talk ; this don’t 
lead to anything. I see three or four points, and with 
Mr. Trelawney’s permission. I’ll name them.” 


100 


TREASURE ISLAND 


You, sir, are the captain. It is for you to speak,^ 
says Mr. Trelawney, grandly. 

First point,” began Mr. Smollett. '^We must go 
on, because we can^t turn back. If I gave the word to go 
about, they would rise at once. Second point, we have 
time before us — at least, until this treasure’s found. 
Third point, there are faithful hands. Now, sir, it’s 
got to come to blows sooner or later ; and what I propose 
is, to take time by the forelock, as the saying is, and 
come to blows some fine day when they least expect it. 
We can count, I take it, on your own home servants, 
Mr. Trelawney ? ” 

“ As upon myself,” declared the squire. 

‘‘Three,” reckoned the captain, “ourselves make 
seven, counting Hawkins, here. Now, about the honest 
hands ? ” 

“ Most likely Trelawney’s own men,” said the doctor ; 
“ those he had picked up for himself, before he lit on 
Silver.” 

“ Nay,” replied the squire, “ Hands was one of 
mine.” 

“ I did think I could have trusted Hands,” added the 
captain. 

“ And to think that they’re all Englishmen 1 ” broke 
out the squire. “ Sir, I could find it in my heart to 
blow the ship up.” 

“ Well, gentlemen,” said the captain, “ the best that 
I can say is uot much. We must lay to, if you please, 


OOUNCIL OF war 


101 


and keep a bright look out. It’s trying on a man, I 
know. It would be pleasanter to come to blows. But 
there’s no help for it till we know onr men. Lay to, 
and whistle for a wind, that’s my view.” 

“ Jim here,” said the doctor, can help us more than 
anyone. The men are not shy with him, and Jim is a 
noticing lad.’" 

Hawkins, I put prodigious faith in you,” added 
the squire. 

1 began to feel pretty desjicrate at this, for I felt 
altogether helpless ; and yet, by an odd train of circunn 
stances, it was incleed through me that safety caine. 
In the meantime, talk as we pleased, there were only 
seven out of the twenty-six on whom we knew we could 
rely ; and out of these seven one was a boy, so that the 
grown men on our side were six to their nineteen. 


part 111 

MY SHORE ADVENTURE 


CHAPTER XIII 

HOW I BEGAN MY SHORE ADVENTURE 

The appearance of the island when I came on deck 
next morning was altogether changed. Although the 
breeze had now utterly failed, we had made a great deal 
of way during the night, and were now lying becalmed 
about half a mile to the south-east of the low eastern 
coast. Grey-coloured Avoods covered a large part of the 
surface. This even tint was indeed broken up by 
streaks of yellow sandbreak in the lower lands, and by 
many tall trees of the pine family, out-topping the 
others — some singly, some in clumps ; but the general 
colouring was uniform and sad. The hills ran up clear 
above the vegetation in spires of naked rock. All were 
strangely shaped, and the Spy-glass, Avhich was by three 
or four hundred feet the tallest on the island, was like- 
wise the strangest in contiguration, running up sheer 
from almost every side, and then suddenly cut oif at 
the top like a j)e(iestal to i)ut a statue on. 


HOW I BEGA2J MY SHORE ADVENTURE 103 


The Hispaniola was rolling scuppers under in the 
ocean swell. The booms were tearing at the blocks, the 
rudder was banging to and fro, and the whole ship 
creaking, groaning, and jumping like a manufactory. 
I had to cling tight to the backstay, ajid the world 
turned giddily before my eyes ; for though I was a good 
enough sailor when there was way on, this standing 
still and being rolled about like a bottle was a thing I 
never learned to stand without a qualm or so, above all 
in the morning, on an empty stomach. 

Perhaps it was this— perhaps it was the look of the 
island, with its grey, melancholy woods, and wild stone 
spires, and the surf that we could both see and hear 
foaming and thundering on the steep beach — at least, 
although the sun shone bright and hot, and the shore 
birds were fishing and crying all around us, and you 
would have thought anyone would have been glad to get 
to land after being so long at sea, my heart sank, as 
the saying is, into my boots ; and from that first look 
onward, I hated the very thought of Treasure Island. 

We had a dreary morning’s work before us, for there 
was no sign of any wind, and the boats had to be got out 
and manned, and the ship warped three or four miles 
round the corner of the island, and up the nai-row pas- 
sage to the haven behind Skeleton Island. I volun- 
teered for one of the boats, where I had, of course, no 
business. The heat was sweltering, and the men grum- 
bled fiercely over their work. Anderson was in com- 


104 


TKEAfciUBE ISLAND 


mand of my boat, and instead of keeping the cre% m 
order, he grumbled as loud as the worst. 

“ Well,” he said, with an oath, “ it’s not for ever." 

I thought this was a very bad sign ; for, up to that 
day, the men had gone briskly and willingly about their 
business ; but the very sight of the island had relaxed 
the cords of discipline. 

All the way in. Long John stood by the steersman 
and conned the ship. He knew the passage like the 
palm of his hand ; and though the man in the chains 
got everywhere more water than was down in the chart, 
John never hesitated once. 

There’s a strong scour with the ebb,” he said, 

and this here passage has been dug out, in a manner 
of speaking, with a spade.” 

We brought up just where the anchor was in the 
chart, about a third of a mile from either shore, the 
mainland on one side, and Skeleton Island on the other. 
’I’he bottom was clean sand. The plunge of our anchor 
sent up clouds of birds wheeling and crying over the 
woods ; but in less than a minute they were down again, 
and all was once more silent. 

The ])lace was entirely land-locked, buried in woods, 
the trees corning right down to high-water mark, the 
shores mostly flat, and the hilltops standing round at a 
distance in a sort of amphitheatre, one here, one there. 
Two little river's, or, rather, two swamps, emptied out 
into this pond, as you might call it ; and the foliage 


HOW I BEGAJS MY SHORE ADVENTURE 105 


round that part of the shore had a kind of poisonous 
brightness. From the ship, we could see nothing of the 
house or stockade, for they were quite buried among 
trees ; and if it had not been for the chart on the com- 
panion, we might have been the first that had ever 
anchored there since the island arose out of the seas. 

There was not a breath of air moving, nor a sound 
but that of the surf booming half a mile away along the 
beaches and against tlie rocks outside. A peculiar stag- 
nant smell hung over the anchorage — a smell of sodden 
leaves and rotting tree trunks. I observed the doctor 
sniffing and sniffing, like someone tasting a bad egg. 

“ I donT know about treasure,” he said, “ but I’ll 
stake my wig there’s fever here.” 

If the conduct of the men had been alarming in the 
boat, it became truly threatening when they had come 
aboard. They lay about the deck growling together in 
talk. The slightest order was received with a black 
look, and grudgingly and carelessly obeyed. Even the 
honest hands must have caught the infection, for there 
was not one man aboard to mend another. Mutiny, it 
was plain, hung over us like a thunder-cloud. 

And it was not only we of the cabin party who per- 
ceived the danger. Long John was hard at work going 
from group to group, spending himself in good advice, 
and as for example no man could have shown a better 
lie fairly outstripped himself in willingness and civility ; 
lie was idl smiles to everyone. If an order were given, 


106 


TREASUKE ISLAND 


John would be on his crutch in an instant, with the 
cheeriest Ay, ay, sir ! ’’ in the world ; and when there 
was nothing else to do, he kept up one song after an- 
other, as if to conceal the discontent of the rest. 

Of all the gloomy features of that gloomy afternoon, 
this obvious anxiety on the part of Long John appeared 
the worst. 

We held a council in the cabin. 

“ Sir,” said the captain, “ if 1 risk another order the 
whole ship’ll come about our ears by the run. You see. 
sir, here it is. I get a rough answer, do 1 not ? Well, 
if I speak back, pikes will be going in two shakes ; if I 
don’t. Silver will see there’s something under that, and 
the game’s up. Now, we’ve only one man to rely on.” 

“ And who is that ? ” asked the squire. 

Silver, sir,” returned the captain ; “he’s as anxious 
as you and I to smother things up. This is a tiff ; he’d 
soon talk ’em out of it if he had the chance, and what J 
propose to do is to give him the chance. Let’s allow 
the men an afternoon ashore. If they all go, why, we’ll 
fight the ship. If they none of them go, well, then, we 
hold the cabin, and God defend the right. If some go, 
you mark my words, sir. Silver’ll bring ’em aboard again 
as mild as lambs.” 

It was so decided ; loaded pistols were served out to 
all the sure men ; Hunter, Joyce, and Redruth were 
taken into our confidence, and received the news with 
less surprise and a better spirit than we had looked for, 


HOW I BEGAN MY bHORE /ADVENTURE 107 


and then the captain went on deck and addressed the 
crew. 

** My lads," said he, “we\e had a hot day, and are 
all tired and out of sorts. A turn ashore^ll hurt 
nobody — the boats are still in the water ; you can take 
the gigs, and as many as please can go ashore for the 
afternoon. I’ll fire a gun half an hour before sundown." 

I believe the silly fellows must have thought they 
would break their shins over treasure as soon as they 
were landed ; for they all came out of their sulks in a 
moment, and gave a cheer that started the echo in a 
far-away hill, aud sent the birds once more fiying and 
squalling round the anchorage. 

I'he captain was too bright to be in the way. He 
whipped out of sight in a moment, leaving Silver to 
arrange the party ; and I fancy it was as well he did so. 
Had he been on deck, he could no longer so much as 
have jjretended not to understand the situation. It was 
as plain as aay. Silver was the captain, and a mighty 
rebellious crew he had of it. The honest hands — and I 
was soon to see it proved that there were such on board 
— must have been very stupid fellows. Or, rather, I sup- 
pose the truth was this, that all hands were disaffected 
by the example of the ringleaders — only some more, 
some less ; and a few, being good fellows in the main, 
could neither be led nor driven any further. It is one 
thing to be idle and skulk, and quite another to take 
a ship and murder a number of innocent men. 


108 


TEEASUKE ISLAND 


At last, hovvevei, the party was made up. Six fel* 
lows were to stay on board, and the remaining thirteen, 
including Silver, began to embark. 

Then it was that there came into my head the first of 
the mad notions that contributed so much to save our 
lives. If six men were left by Silver, it was plain oui 
party could not take and fight the ship ; and since only 
six w'ere left, it w'as equally plain that the cabin party 
had no present need of my assistance. It occurred to 
me at once to go ashore. In a jiffy I had slipped over 
the side, and curled up in the fore-sheets of the nearest 
boat, and almost at the same moment she shoved off. 

No one took notice of me, only the bow oar saying. 

Is that you, Jim ? Keep your head down.” But 
Silver, from the other boat, looked sharply over and 
called out to know if that were me ; and from that 
moment I began to regret what I had done. 

The crews raced for the beach ; but the boat I was in. 
Having some start, and being at once the lighter and the 
better manned, shot far ahead of her consort, and the 
bow had struck among the shore-side trees, and I had 
caught a branch and swung myself out, and plunged 
Into the nearest thicket, while Silver and the rest were 
still a hundred yards behind. 

Jim, Jim ! ” I heard him shouting. 

But you may suppose I paid no heed ; jumping, 
ducking, and breaking through, I ran stiaight before 
my nose, till I could run no longer. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE FIRST BLOW 

I WAS SO pleased at liaviiig given tlie slip to Long 
John, that I began to enjoy myself and look around 
me with some interest on the strange land that I was 
in. 

I had crossed a marshy tract full of willows, bul- 
rushes, and odd, outlandish, swampy trees ; and I had 
now come out upon the skirts of an open piece of 
undulating, sandy country, about a mile long, dotted 
with a few pines, and a great number of contorted trees, 
not unlike the oak in growth, but pale in the foliage, 
like willows. On the far side of the open stood one of 
the hills, with two quaint, craggy peaks, shining vividly 
in the sun. 

I now felt for the first time the joy of exploration. 
I’he isle was uninhabited ; my shipmates I had left 
behind, and nothing lived in front of me but dumb 
brutes and fowls. I turned hither and thither among 
the trees. Here and there were flowering plants, un- 
known to me ; here and there I saw snakes, and one 
raised his head from a ledge of rock and hissed at me 
with a noise not unlike the spinning of a top. Little 


110 


TREASURE ISLAND 


did I suppose that he was a deadly enemy, and that the 
noise was the famous rattle. 

Then I came to a long thicket of these oak-like trees 
— live, or evergreen, oaks, I heard afterwards they 
should be called — which grew low along the sand like 
brambles, the boughs curiously twisted, the foliage 
compact, like thatch. The thicket stretched down 
from the top of one of the sandy knolls, spreading and 
growing taller as it went, until it reached the margin of 
the broad, reedy fen, through Avhich the nearest of the 
little rivers soaked its way into the anchorage. The 
marsh was steaming in the strong sun, and the outline 
of the Spy-glass trembled through the haze. 

All at once there began to go a sort of bustle among 
the bulrushes ; a wild duck flew up with a quack, 
another followed, and soon over the whole surface of 
the marsh a great cloud of birds hung screaming and 
circling in the air. I judged at once that some of my 
shipmates must be drawing near along the borders of 
the fen. Nor was I deceived ; for soon I heard the 
very distant and low tones of a human voice, which, 
as I continued to give ear, grew steadily louder and 
nearer. 

This put me in a great fear, and I crawled under 
cover of the nearest live-oak, and squatted there, 
hearkening, as silent as a mouse. 

Another voice answered ; and then the first voice, 
which I now recognised to be Silver’s, once more took 


THE FIRST BLOW 


111 


up the story, and ran on for a long while in a stream, 
only now and again interrupted by the other. By the 
sonnd they must have been talking earnestly, and al- 
most fiercely ; but no distinct word came '’o my hearing. 

At last the speakers seemed to have paused, and per- 
haps to have sat down ; for not only did they cease to 
draw any nearer, but the birds themselves began to 
grow more quiet, and to settle again to their places in 
the swamp. 

And now I began to feel that I was neglecting my 
business ; that since 1 had been so foolhardy as to come 
ashore with these d3speradoes, the least I could do was 
to overhear them at their councils ; and that my plain 
and obvious duty was to draw as close as 1 could man- 
age, under the favourable ambush of the crouching 
trees. 

I could tell the direction of the speakers pretty 
exactly, not only by the sound of their voices, but by 
the behaviour of the few birds that still hung in alarm 
above the heads of the intruders. 

Crawling on all-fours, I made steadily but slowly 
towards them ; till at last, raising my head to an aper- 
ture among the leaves, I could see clear down into a 
little green dell beside the marsh, and closely set about 
with trees, where long John Silver and another of the 
crew stood face to face in convei’sation. 

The sun beat full upon them. Silver had thrown his 
hat beside him on the ground, and his great, smooth, 


112 


TREASURE ISLAND 


blond face, all shining with heat, was lifted to the 
other man’s in a kind of appeal. 

“Mate,” he was saying, “it’s because I thinks gold 
dust of you — gold dust, and you may lay to that ! If 
I hadn’t took to you like pitch, do you think I’d have 
been here a-warning of you ? All’s up — you can’t make 
uor mend ; it’s to save your neck that I’m a-sjieaking, 
and if one of the wild ’uns knew it, where ’ud I be, 
Tom — now, tell me, where ’ud 1 be ? ” 

“ Silver,” said the other man — and I observed he 
was not only red in the face, but spoke as hoarse as a 
crow, and his voice shook, too, like a taut roi)e — 
“Silver,” says he, “you’re old, and you’re honest, or 
has the name for it ; and you’ve money, too, which lots 
of poor sailors hasn’t ; and you’re brave, or I’m mistook. 
And will you tell me you’ll let yourself be led away 
with that kind of a mess of swabs ? not you ! As sure 
as God sees me, I’d sooner lose my hand. If I turn 
agin my dooty ” 

And then all of a sudden he was interrupted by a 
noise. I had found one of the honest hands — well, 
here, at that same moment, came news of another. Far 
away out in the marsh there arose, all of a sudden, a 
sound like the cry of anger, then another on the back 
of it ; and then one horrid, long-drawn scream. The 
rocks of the Spy-glass re-echoed it a score of times ; 
the whole troo}) of marsh-birds rose again, darkening 
heaven, with a simultaneous whirr ; and long after that 


THE FIRST BLOW 


113 


death yell was still ringing in my brain, silence had 
re-established its empire, and only the rustle of the 
redescending birds and the boom of the distant surges 
disturbed the languor of the afternoon. 

Tom had leaped at the sound, like a horse at the 
spur ; but Silver had not winked an eye. He stood 
where he was, resting lightly on his crutch, watching 
his companion like a snake about to spring. 

“ John,” said the sailor, stretching out his hand. 

“ Hands off ! ” cried Silver, leaping back a yard, as 
it seemed to me, with the speed and security of a trained 
gymnast. 

Hands off, if you like, John Silver,” said the other. 
^‘It’s a black conscience that can make you feared of 
me. But, in heaven’s name, tell me what was that ?” 

‘'That?” returned Silver, smiling away, but warier 
than ever, his eye a mere pin-point in his big face, but 
gleaming like a crumb of glass. “ That ! Oh, I 
reckon that’ll be Alan.” 

And at this poor Tom flashed out like a hero. 

“ Alan ! ” he cried. “ Then rest his soul for a true 
seaman ! And as for you, John Silver, long you’ve 
been a mate of mine, but you’re mate of mine no more. 
If I die like a dog. I’ll die in my dooty. You’ve killed 
Alan, have you ? Kill me, too, if you can. But t 
defies you.” 

And with that, this brave fellow turned his back 
directly on the cook, and set off walking for the beach. 

8 


114 


TREASURE ISLAND 


But he was not destined to go far. With a cry, John 
seized the brancli of a tree, whipped the crutch out of 
his armpit, and sent that uncouth missile hurtling 
through the air. It struck poor Tom, point foremost, 
and with stunning violence, right between the shoulders 
in the middle of his back. His hands flew up, he gave 
a sort of gasp, and fell. 

Whether he were injured much or little, none could 
ever tell. Like enough, to judge from the sound, his 
back was broken on the spot. But lie had no time 
given him to recover. Silver, agile as a monkey, even 
without leg or crutch, was on the top of him next 
moment, and had twice buried his knife up to the hilt 
in that defenceless body. From my place of ambush, 
I could hear him pant aloud as he struck the blows. 

I do not know what it rightly is to faint, but I do 
know that for the next little while the whole world 
swam away from before me in a whirling mist ; Silver 
and the birds, and the tall Spy-glass hilltop, going 
round and round and topsy-turvy before my eyes, and 
all manner of bells ringing and distant voices shouting 
in my ear. 

When I came again to myself, the monster had pulled 
himself together, his crutch under his arm, his hat 
upon his head. Just before him Tom lay motionless 
upon the sward ; but the murderer minded him not a 
whit, cleansing his blood-stained knife the while upon 
a wisp of grass. Everything else was unchanged, the 


THE FIRST BLOW 


116 


sun still shining mercilessly on the steaming marsh and 
the tall pinnacle of the mountain, and I could scarce 
persuade myself that murder had been actually done, 
and a human life cruelly cut short a moment since, 
before my eyes. 

But now John put his hand into his pocket, brought 
out a whistle, and blew upon it several modulated 
blasts, that rang far across the heated air. I could not 
tell, of course, the meaning of the signal ; but it 
instantly awoke my fears. More men would be coming. 
I might be discovered. They had already slain two 
of the honest people ; after Tom and Alan, might not 
I come next ? 

Instantly I began to extricate myself and crawl back 
again, with what speed and silence I could manage, to 
the more open portion of the wood. As I did so, I 
could hear hails coming and going between the old 
buccaneer and his comrades, and this sound of danger 
lent me wings. As soon as I was clear of the thicket, 
J ran as I never ran before, scarce minding the direction 
of my flight so long as it led me from the murderers ; 
and as I ran, fear grew and grew upon me, until it 
turned into a kind of frenzy. 

Indeed, could anyone bo more entirely lost than I ? 
When the gun fired, how should I dare to go down to 
the boats among those fiends, still smoking from their 
crime ? Would not the first of them who saw me 
wring my neck like a sni^ie’s ? Would not my absence 


116 


TEEASURE ISLAND 


itself be an evidence to them of my alarm, and therefore 
of my fatal knowledge ? It was all over, I thought. 
Good-bye to the Hisimniola; good-bye to the squire, the 
doctor, and the captain ! There was nothing left for 
me but death by starvation, or death by the hands of 
the mutineers. 

All this while, as I say, I was still running, and, with- 
out taking any notice, I had drawn near to the foot of 
the little hill with the two peaks, and had got into a 
part of the island where the live-oaks grew more widely 
apart, and seemed more like forest trees in their bearing 
and dimensions. Mingled with these were a few scat- 
tered pines, some fifty, some nearer seventy, feet high. 
The air, too, smelt more freshly than down beside the 
marsh. 

And here a fresh alarm brought me to a standstill 
with a thumping heart. 


CHAPTER XV 


THE MAJq' OF THE ISLAND 

From the side of the hill, which was here steep ana 
stony, a spout of gravel was dislodged, and fell rattling 
and bounding through the trees. My eyes turned in- 
stinctively in that direction, and I saw a figure leap 
with great rapidity behind the trunk of a pine. What 
it was, whether bear or man or monkey, I could in no 
wise tell. It seemed dark and shaggy ; more I knew 
not. But the terror of this new apparition brought 
me to a stand. 

I was now, it seemed, cut off upon both sides ; behind 
me the murderers, before me this lurking nondescript. 
And immediately I began to prefer the dangers that I 
knew to tnose I knew not. Silver himself appeared less 
terrible in contrast with this creature of the woods, and 
I turned on my heel, and, looking sharply behind me 
over my shoulder, began to retrace my steps in the 
direction of the boats. 

Instantly the figure reappeared, and, making a wide 
circuit, began to head me off. I was tired, at any rate ; 
but had I been as fresh as when I rose, I could see it 
was in vain for me to contend in speed with such an 


118 . 


TREASURE ISLAND 


adversary. From trunk to trunk the creature flitted 
like a deer, running manlike on two legs, but unlike 
any man that I had ever seen, stooping almost double 
as it ran. Yet a man it was, I could no longer be in 
.loubt about that. 

I began to recall what I had heard of cannibals. I 
was within an ace of calling for help. But the mere 
fact that he was a man, however wild, had somewhat 
reassured me, and my fear of Silver began to revive in 
proportion. I stood still, therefore, and cast about for 
some method of escape ; and as I was so thinking, the 
recollection of my pistol flashed into my mind. As soon 
as I remembered I was not defenceless, courage glowed 
again in my heart ; and I set my face resolutely for this 
man of the island, and walked briskly towards him. 

He was concealed by this time, behind another tree 
trunk ; but he must have been watching me closely, for 
as soon as I began to move in his direction he reappeared 
and took a step to meet me. Then he hesitated, drew 
back, came forward again, and at last, to my wonder 
and confusion, threw himself on his knees and held out 
his clasped hands in supplication. 

At that I once more stopped. 

Who are you ? ” I asked. 

Ben Gunn,” he answered, and his voice sounded 
hoarse and awkward, like a rusty lock. “ I’m poor Ben 
Gunn, I am ; and 1 haven’t spoke with a Christian these 
three years.” 


THE MAN OF THE ISLAND 


119 


I could now see tliat he was a white man like myself, 
and that his features were even pleasing. His skin, 
wherever it was exposed, was burnt hv the sun ; even 
his lips were black ; and his fair eyes looked quite start- 
ling in so dark a face. Of all the beggar-mtn that I 
had seen or fancied, he was the chief for raggedness. 
He was clothed with tatters of old ship’s canvas and old 
sea cloth ; and this extraordinary patchwork was all 
held together by a system of the most various and incon- 
gruous fastenings, brass buttons, bits of stick, and loops 
of tarry gaskin. About his waist he wore an old brass- 
buckled leather belt, which was the one thing solid in 
his whole accoutrement. 

“ Three years!” I cried. Were you shipwrecked ? ” 
Nay, mate,” said he — ‘‘ marooned.” 

I had heard the word, and I knew it stood for a hor- 
rible kind of punishment common enough among the 
buccaneers, in which the offender is put ashore with a 
little powder and shot, and left behind on some desolate 
and distant island. 

^‘Marooned three years agone,” he continued, “and 
lived on goats since then, and berries, and oysters. 
Wherever a man is, says I, a man can do for himself. 
But, mate, my heart is sore for Christian diet. You 
mightn’t happen to have a piece of cheese about you, 
now ? No ? Well, many’s the long night I’ve dreamed 
of cheese — toasted, mostly — and woke up again, and 
here I were.” 


120 


TREASURE ISLAND 


“ If ever I can get aboard again/^ said I, “you shall 
have cheese by the stone/^ 

All this time he had been feeling the stuff of my 
jacket, smoothing my hands, looking at my boots, and 
generally, in the intervals of his speech, showing a 
childish pleasure in the presence of a fellow-creature. 
But at my last words he perked up into a kind of startled 
slyness. 

“ If ever you can get aboard again, says you ? ” he 
repeated. “ Why, now, who’s to hinder you ? ” 

“ Not you, I know,” was my reply. 

“ And right you was,” he cried. Now you — what 
do you call yourself, mate ? ” 

“Jim,” I told him. 

“Jim, Jim,” says he, quite pleased apparently. 
“ Well, now, Jim, I’ve lived that rough as you’d be 
ashamed to hear of. Now, for instance, you wouldn’t 
think I had had a pious mother — to look at me ? ” he 
asked. 

“ Why, no, not in particular,” I answered. 

“ Ah, well,” said he, “ bu!- I had — remarkable pious. 
And I was a civil, pious boy, and could rattle off my 
catechism that fast, as you couldn’t tell one word from 
another. And here’s what it come to, Jim, and it begun 
with chuck-fartlien on the blessed grave-stones ! That’s 
what it begun with, but it went further’n that ; and so 
my mother told me, and predicked the whole, she did, 
the pious woman ! But it were Providence that put me 


THE MAN OF THE ISLAND 


121 


liere. Fve thought it all out in this here lonely island, 
and I^m back on piety. You don’t catch me tasting 
rum so much ; but just a thimbleful for luek, of course, 
the first chance I have. Fin bound Fll be good, and 
I see the Avay to. And, Jim ” — looking all round him, 
and lowering his voice to a whisper — “ I’m rich.” 

I now felt sure that the poor’fellow had gone crazy in 
his solitude, and I suppose I must have shown the feel- 
ing in my face ; for he repeated the statement hotly : — 
Rich ! rich ! I says. And I’ll tell you what : Fll 
make a man of you, Jim. Ah, Jim, you’ll bless your 
stars, you will, you was the first that found me ! ” 

And at this there came suddenly a lowering shadow 
over his face, and he tightened his grasp upon my hand, 
and raised a forefinger threateningly before my eyes. 

Now, Jim, you tell me true : that ain’t Flint’s 
ship ? ” he asked. 

At this I had a happy inspiration. I began to believe 
that I had found an ally, and I answered him at once. 

It’s not Flint’s ship, and Flint is dead ; but I’ll tell 
you true, as you ask me — there are some of Flint’s hands 
aboard ; worse luck for the rest of us.” 

^^Not a man — with one — leg?” he gasped. 

“ Silver ? ” I asked. 

“Ah, Silver!” says he; “that were his name.” 

“ He’s the cook ; and the ringleader, too.” 

He was still holding me by the wrist, and at that he 
gave it quite a wring. 


122 


TREASURE ISLAND 


“ If you was sent by Long John/^ he said, I^m as 
good as pork, and I know it. But where was you, do 
you suppose ? ” 

I had made my mind up in a moment, and by way of 
answer told him the whole story of our voyage, and 
the predicament in which we found ourselves. He 
heard me wdtli the keenest interest, and when I had 
done he patted me on the head. 

‘^You’re a good lad, Jim,” he said ; ^‘^and you’re all 
in a clove hitch, ain’t you ? Well, you just put your 
trust in Ben Gunn — Ben Gunn’s the man to do it. 
Would you think it likely, now, that your squire would 
prove a liberal-minded one in case of help — him being 
in a clove hitch, as you remark ? ” 

I told him the squire was the most liberal of men. 

‘^Ay, but you see,” returned Ben Gunn, “1 didn’t 
mean giving me a gate to keep, and a shuit of livery 
clothes, and such ; that’s not my mark, Jim. What I 
mean is, would he be likely to come down to the toon 
of, say one thousand pounds out of money that’s as 
good as a man’s own already ? ” 

‘"I am sure he would,” said I. ‘"As it was, all 
hands were to share.” 

‘‘And a passage home?” he added, with a look of 
great shrewdness. 

“Why,” I cried, “the squire’s a gentleman. And, 
besides, if we got rid of the others, we should want 
you to help work the vessel home.” 


THE MAN OF THE ISLAND 


123 


** Ah,” said he, “ so you would.” And he seemed 
very much relieved. 

Now, I’ll tell you what,” he went on. So much 
I’ll tell you, and no more. I were in Flint’s ship when 
he buried the treasure ; he and six along — six strong 
seamen. They was ashore nigh on a week, and us 
standing off and on in the old Walrus. One fine day 
up went the signal, and here come Flint by himself in a 
little boat, and his head done up in a blue scarf. The 
sun was getting up, and mortal white he looked about 
the cutwater. But, there he was, you mind, and the 
six all dead — dead and buried. How he done it, not a 
man aboard us could make out. It was battle, murder, 
and sudden death, leastways— him against six. Billy 
Bones was the mate ; Long John, he was quarter- 
master ; and they asked him where the treasure was. 
^ Ah,’ says he, ‘^you can go ashore, if you like, and stay,’ 
he says ; ^ but as for the ship, she’ll beat up for more, 
by thunder ! ’ That’s what he said. 

Well, I was in another ship three years back, 
and we sighted this island. ^ Boys,’ said I, ‘ here’s 
Flint’s treasure ; let’s land and find it.’ The cap’n 
was displeased at that ; but my messmates were all 
of a mind, and landed. Twelve days they looked for 
it, and every day they had the worse word for me, 
until one fine morning all hands went aboard. ‘ As 
for you, Benjamin Gunn,’ says they, ‘ here’s a mus- 
ket,’ they says, ‘and a spade, and pickaxe. You can 


124 


TEEASUKE ISLAND 


stay here, and find Flint^s money for yourself,’ they 
says. 

Well, Jim, three years have I been here, and not a 
bite of Christian diet from that day to this. But now, 
you look here ; look at me. Do I look like a man before 
the mast ? No, says you. Nor I weren’t, neither, I 
says.” 

And with that he winked and pinched me hard. 

Just you mention them words to your squire, Jim” 
— he went on : Nor he weren’t, neither — that’s the 
words. Three years he were the man of this island, 
light and dark, fair and rain ; and sometimes he would, 
maybe, think upon a prayer (says you), and sometimes 
he would, maybe, think of his old mother, so be as she’s 
alive (you’ll say) ; but the most part of Gunn’s time 
(this is what you’ll say) — the most part of his time was 
took up with another matter. And then you’ll give him 
a nip, like I do.” 

And he pinched me again in the most confidential 
manner. 

Then,” he continued — then you’ll up, and you’ll 
say this : — Gunn is a good man (you’ll say), and he puts 
a precious sight more confidence — a precious sight, mind 
that— in a gen’leman born than in these gen’lemen of 
fortune, having been one hisself.” 

“Well,” I said, “I don’t understand one word that 
you’ve been saying. But that’s neither here nor there ; 
for how am I to get on board ? ” 


THE MAN OF THE ISLAND 


125 


** Ah,” said he, “ that’s the hitch, for sure. Well, 
there’s my boat, that I made with my two hands. I 
keep her under the white rock. If the worst come to 
the worst, we might try that after dark. Hi ! ” he 
broke out, what’s that 

For just then, although the sun had still an hour 
or two to run, all the echoes of the island awoke and 
bellowed to the thunder of a cannon. 

“ They have begun to fight ! ” I cried. Follow 
me.” 

And I began to run towards the anchorage, my 
terrors all forgotten ; while, close at my side, the 
marooned man in his goatskins trotted easily and 
lightly. 

‘‘ Left, left,” says he ; keep to your left hand, mate 
Jim ! Under the trees with you ! Theer’s where I 
killed my first goat. They don’t come down here now ; 
they’re all mastheaded on them mountings for the fear 
of Benjamin Gunn. Ah ! and there’s the cetemery” — 
cemetery, he must have meant. “ You see the mounds ? 
I come here and prayed, nows and thens, when I 
thought maybe a Sunday would be about doo. It 
weren’t quite a chapel, but it seemed more solemn 
like ; and then, says you, Ben Gunn was short-handed 
— no chapling, nor so much as a Bible and a flag, you 
says.” 

So he kept talking as I ran, neither expecting nor 
receiving any answer. 


126 


TEEASURE ISLAND 


The cannon-shot was followed, after a considerable 
interval, by a volley of small arms. 

Another pause, and then, not a quarter of a mile in 
front of me, I beheld the Union Jack flutter in the air 
ftbove a wood. 


ipart IV 

THE STOCKADE 

CHAPTER XVI 

NARRATIVE CONTINUED BY THE DOCTOR : HOW THE 
SHIP WAS ABANDONED 

It was about half-past one — three bells in the sea 
phiuse — that the two boats went ashore from the 
Hispaniola. The captain, the squire, and I were 
talking matters over in the cabin. Had there been a 
breath of wind we should have fallen on the six muti- 
neers who were left aboard with us, slipped our cable, 
and away to sea. But the wind was wanting ; and, to 
complete our helplessness, down came Hunter with the 
news that Jim Hawkins had slipped into a boat and 
was gone ashore with the rest. 

It never occurred to us to doubt Jim Hawkins ; but 
we were alarmed for his safety. With the men in the 
temper they were in, it seemed an even chance if we 
should see the lad again. We ran on deck. The pitch 
was bubbling in the seams ; the nasty stench of the 
place turned me sick ; if ever a man smelt fever and 


128 


TREASURE ISLAND 


dysentery, it was in that abominable anchorage. The 
six scoundrels were sitting grumbling under a sail in 
the forecastle ; ashore we could see the gigs made fast, 
and a man sitting in each, hard by where the river 
runs in. One of them was whistling “ Lillibullero.” 

Waiting was a strain ; and it was decided that Hunter 
and I should go ashore with the jolly-boat, in quest of 
information. 

The gigs had leaned to their right ; but Hunter and 
I pulled straight in, in the direction of the stockade upon 
the chart. The two who were left guarding their boats 
seemed in a bustle at our appearance ; “ Lillibullero ” 
stopped off, and I could see the pair discussing what 
they ought to do. Had they gone and told Silver, all 
might have turned out differently ; but they had their 
orders, I suppose, and decided to sit quietly where they 
were and hark back again to Lillibullero.” 

There was a slight bend in the coast, and I steered so 
as to put it between us ; even before we landed we had 
thus lost sight of the gigs. I jumped out, and came as 
near running as I durst, with a big silk handkerchief 
under my hat for coolness’ sake, and a brace of pistols 
ready primed for safety. 

I had not gone a hundred yards when I came on 
the stockade. 

This was how it was : a spring of clear water rose 
almost at the top of a knoll. Well, on the knoll, and 
enclosing the spring, they had clapped a stout log-house. 


HOW THE SHIP WAS ABANDONED 


129 


fit to hold two score people on a pinch, and loopholed 
for musketry on every side. All round this they had 
cleared a wide space, and then the thing was completed 
by a paling six feet high, without door or opening, too 
strong to pull down without time and labour, and too 
open to shelter the besiegers. The people in the log- 
house had them in every way ; they stood quiet in 
shelter and shot the others like partridges. All they 
wanted was a good watch and food ; for, short of a 
complete surprise, they might have held the place 
against a regiment. 

What particularly took my fancy was the spring. 
For, though we had a good enough place of it in the 
cabin of the Hisimniola, with plenty of arms and am- 
munition, and things to eat, and excellent wines, there 
had been one thing overlooked — we had no water. I 
was thinking this over, when there came ringing over 
the island the cry of a man at the point of death. I 
was not new to violent death — I have served his Koval 
Highness the Duke of Cumberland, and got a wound 
myself at Fontenoy — but I know my pulse went dot 
and carry one. “ Jim Hawkins is gone " was my first 
thought. I 

is something to have been an old soldier, but more 
still to have been a doctor. There is no time to dilly- 
dally in our work. And so now I made up my mind 
instantly, and with no time lost returned to the shore, 
and jumped on board the jolJy-boat, 
i) 


ISO 


TREASURE ISLANP 


By good fortune Hunter pulled a good oar. We 
made the water fly ; and the boat was soon alongside, 
and I aboard the schooner. 

1 found them all shaken, as was natural. The squire 
was sitting down, as white as a sheet, thinking of the 
harm he had led us to, the good soul ! and one of the 
six forecastle hands was little better. 

“ There’s a man,” says Captain Smollett, nodding 
towards him, “ new to this work. He came nigh -hand 
fainting, doctor, when he heard the cry. Another 
touch of the rudder and that man would join us.” 

I told my plan to the captain, and between us we 
settled on the details of its accomplishment. 

Vie put old Redruth in the gallery between the cabin 
and the forecastle, with three or four loaded muskets and 
a mattress for protection. Hunter brought the boat 
round under the stern-port, and Joyce and I set to work 
loading her with powder tins, muskets, bags of biscuits, 
kegs of pork, a cask of cognac, and my invaluable 
medicine chest. 

In the meantime, the squire and the captain stayed 
on deck, and the latter hailed the coxswain, who was 
the principal man aboard. 

“Mr. Hands,” he said, “here are two of us with a 
brace of pistols each. If any one of you six make a 
signal of any description, that man’s dead.” 

They were a good deal taken aback ; and, after a 
little consultation, one and all tumbled down the fore 


HOW THE SHIP WAS ABANDONED 


131 


companion, thinking, no doubt, to take us on the rear. 
But when they saw Redruth waiting for them in the 
sparred gallery, they went about ship at once, and a 
head popped out again on deck. 

“Down, dog!” cries the captain. 

And the head popped back again ; and we heard no 
more, for the time, of these six very faint-hearted 
seamen. 

By this time, tumbling things in as they came, we 
had the jolly-boat loaded as much as we dared. Joyce 
and I got out through the stern-port, and we made for 
shore again, as fast as oars could take us. 

This second trip fairly aroused the watchers along 
shore. “ Lillibullero ” was dropped again; and just 
before we lost sight of them behind the little point, 
one of them whipped ashore and disappeared. I had 
half a mind to change my plan and destroy their boats, 
but I feared that Silver and the others might be close 
at hand, and all might very well be lost by trying for 
too much. 

We haA soon touched land in the same place as 
before, and set to provision the block-house. All three 
made the first joitmey, heavily laden, and tossed our 
stores over the palisade. Then, leaving Joyce to guard 
them — one man, to be sure, but with half a dozen 
muskets — Hunter and I returned to the jolly-boat, and 
loaded ourselves once more. So we proceeded without 
pausing to take breath, till the whole cargo was be* 


132 


TEEASURE ISLAND 


stowed, when the two servants took up their position 
in the block house, and I, with all power, sculled 
back to the Hispaniola. 

That we should have risked a second boat load seems 
more daring than it really was. They had the advan- 
tage of numbers, of course, but we had the advantage of 
arms. Not one of the men ashore had a musket, and 
before they could get within range for pistol shooting, 
we flattered ourselves we should be able to give a good 
account of a half-dozen at least. 

The squire was waiting for me at the stern window, 
all his faintness gone from him. He caught the painter 
and made it fast, and we fell to loading the boat for our 
very lives. Pork, powder, and biscuit was the cargo, 
with only a musket and a cutlass apiece for squire and 
me and Redruth and the captain. The rest of the arms 
and powder we dropped overboard in two fathoms and a 
half of water, so that we could see the bright steel shin- 
ing far below us in the sun, on the clean, sandy bottom. 

By this time the tide was beginning to ebb, and the 
ship was swinging round to her anchor. Voices were 
heard faintly halloaing in the direction of the two gigs ; 
and though this reassured us for Joyce and Hunter, 
who were well to the eastward, it warned our party to 
be off. 

Redruth retreated from his place in the gallery, and 
dropped into the boat, which we then brought round 
the ship’s counter, to be handier for Captain Smollett 


HOW THE SHIP WAS ABA^JDONED 


133 


Now men,” said he, “ do you hear me ?” 

There was no answer from the forecastle. 

It’s to you, Abraham Gray — it’s to you I am speak- 
ing.” 

Still no reply. 

Gray,” resumed Mr. Smollett, a little louder, ** I 
am leaving this ship, and I order you to follow your 
captain. I know you are a good man at bottom, and I 
daresay not one of the lot of you’s as bad as he makes 
out. I have my watch here in my hand ; I give you 
thirty seconds to join me in.” 

There was a pause. 

“ Come, my fine fellow,” continued the captain, 
** don’t hang so long in stays. I’m risking my life, and 
the lives of these good gentlemen every second.” 

There was a sudden scuffle, a sound of blows, and out 
burst Abraham Gray with a knife-cut on the side of the 
cheek, and came running to the captain, like a dog to 
the whistle. 

“ I’m with you, sir,” said he. 

And the next moment he and the captain had 
dropped aboard of us, and we had shoved off and given 
way. 

We were clear out of the ship ; but not yet ashore in 
our stockade. 


CHAPTER XVII 


NARRATIVE CONTINUED BY THE DOCTOR *. THE JOLLY- 

boat’s last trip 

This fifth trip was quite different from any of the 
others. In the first place, the little gallipot of a boat 
that we were in was gravely overloaded. Five grown 
men, and three of them — Trelawney, Redruth, and the 
captain — over six feet high, was already more than she 
was meant to carry. Add to that the powder, pork, and 
bread-bags. The gunwale was lipping astern. Several 
times we shipped a little water, and my breeches and 
the tails of my coat were all soaking wet before we had 
gone a hundred yards. 

The captain made us trim the boat, and we got her to 
lie a little more evenly. All the same, we were afraid 
to breathe. 

In the second place, the ebb was now making — a 
strong rippling current running westward through the 
^ basin, and then south’ard and seaward down the straits 
by which we had entered in the morning. Even the 
ripples were a danger to our overloaded craft ; but the 
worst of it was that we were swept out of our true 
course, and away from our proper landing-place behind 


THE jolly-boat’s LAST TKIP 


135 


the point. If we let the current have its way we should 
come ashore beside the gigs, where the pirates might 
appear at any moment. 

“ I cannot keep her head for the stockade, sir,” said 
I to the captain. T was steering, while he and Redruth, 
two fresh men, were at the oars. “The tide keeps 
washing her down. Could you pull a little stronger ? ” 

“ Not without swamping the boat,” said he. “ You 
must bear up, sir, if you please — bear up until you see 
youYe gaining.” 

I tried, and found by experiment that the tide kept 
sweeping us Avestward until I had laid her head due east, 
or just about right angles to the way we ought to go. 

We’ll never get ashore at this rate,” said I. 

If it’s the only course that we can lie, sir, we must 
even lie it,” returned the captain. “ We must keep 
up-stream. You see, sir,” he went on, “ if once we 
dropped to leeward of the landing-place, it’s hard to say 
where Ave should get ashore, besides the chance of being 
boarded by the gigs ; Avhereas, the way we go the cur- 
rent must slacken, and then we can dodge back along 
the shore.” 

“ The current’s less a’ready, sir,” said the man Gray, 
who was sitting in the fore-sheets ; “ you can ease her 
off a bit.” 

“ Thank you, my man,” said I, quite as if nothing 
had happened : for Ave had all quietly made up our 
minds to treat him like one of ourselves, 


136 


TREASURE ISLAND 


Suddenly the captain spoke up again, and 1 thought 
his voice was a little changed. 

The gun ! said he. 

I have thought of that,” said I, for I made sure he 
was thinking of a bombardment of the fort. “ They 
could never get the gun ashore, and if they did, they 
could never haul it through the woods,” 

Look astern, doctor,” replied the captain. 

We had entirely forgotten the long nine ; and there, 
to our horror, were the five rogues busy about her, 
getting off her jacket, as they called the stout tarpaulin 
cover under which she sailed. Not only that, but it 
flashed into my mind at the same moment that the 
round-shot and the powder for the gun had been left 
behind, and a stroke with an axe would put it all into 
the possession of the evil ones aboard. 

Israel was Flint’s gunner,” said Gray, hoarsely. 

At any risk, we put the boat’s head direct for the 
landing-place. By this time we had got so far out of 
the run of the current that we kept steerage way even at 
our necessarily gentle rate of rowing, and I could keep 
her steady for the goal. But the worst of it was, that 
with the course I now held, we turned our broadside 
instead of our stern to the Hispaniola, and offered a 
target like a barn door. 

I could hear, as well as see, that brandy-faced rascal, 
Israel Hands, plumping down a round-shot on the deck. 

Who’s the best shot ? ” asked the captain. 


THE jolly-boat’s LAST TRIP 


137 


**Mr. Trelavvuey, out aud away,” said I. 

Mr. Trelawuey, vyill you please pick me olf one 
of these men, sir ? Hands, if possible,” said the cap- 
tain. 

Trelawney was as cool as steel. He looked to the 
priming of his gun. 

“ Now,” cried the captain, ^'easy with that gun, sir, 
or you’ll swamp the boat. All hands stand by to trim 
her when he aims.” 

The squire raised his gun, the rowing ceased, and 
we leaned over to the other side to keep the balance^ 
and all was so nicely contrived that we did not ship a 
drop. 

They had the gun, by this time, slewed round upon 
the swivel, and Hands, who was at the muzzle with the 
rammer, was, in consequence, the most exposed. How- 
ever, we had no luck ; for just as Trelawuey fired, down 
he stooped, the ball whistled over him, and it was one of 
the other four who fell. 

The cry he gave was echoed, not only by his com- 
panions on board, but by a great number of voices from 
the shore, and looking in that direction I saw the other 
pirates trooping out from among the trees and tumbling 
into their places in the boats. 

Here come the gigs, sir,” said I. 

Give way then,” cried the captain. ‘MVe mustn’t 
mind if we swamp her now. If we can’t get ashore, 
all’s up.” 


138 


TREASURE ISLAND 


Only oue of the gigs is being manned, sir,” I added, 
the crew of the other most likely going round by shore 
to cut us oU.” 

They’ll have a hot run, sir,” returned the captain. 
Jack ashore, you know. It’s not them I mind ; it’s 
the round-shot. Carpet bowls ! My lady’s maid 
couldn’t miss. Tell us, squire, when you see the match, 
and we’ll hold water.” 

In the meanwhile we had been making headway at a 
good pace for a boat so overloaded, and we had shipped 
but little water in the process. We were now close in ; 
thirty or forty strokes and we should beach her ; for the 
ebb had already disclosed a narrow belt of sand below the 
clustering trees. The gig was no longer to be feared ; 
the little point had already concealed it from our eyes. 
The ebb-tide, which had so cruelly delayed us, was now 
making reparation, and delaying our assailants. The 
one source of danger was the gun. 

“ If I durst,” said the captain, “ I’d stop and pick off 
another man.” 

But it was plain that they meant nothing should delay 
their shot. They had never so much as looked at their 
fallen comrade, though he was not dead, and I could see 
him trying to crawl away. 

“ Ready ! ” cried the squire. 

Hold ! ” cried the captain, quick as an echo. 

And he and Redruth backed with a great heave that 
sent her stern bodily under water. The report fell in at 


THE jolly-boat’s LAST TEIP 


139 


the same instant of time. This was the first that Jim 
heard, the sound of the squire’s shot not having reached 
him. Where the ball passed, not one of us precisely 
knew ; but I fancy it must have been over our heads, 
and that the wind of it may have contributed to our 
disaster. 

At any rate, the boat sank by the stern, quite gently, 
in three feet of water, leaving the captain and myself, 
facing each other, on our feet. The other three took 
complete headers, and came up again, drenched and 
bubbling. 

So far there was no great harm. No lives were lost, 
and we could wade ashore in safety. But there were all 
our stores at the bottom, and, to make things worse, 
only two guns out of five remained in a state for service. 
Mine I had snatched from my knees and held over my 
head, by a sort of instinct. As for the captain, he had 
carried his over his shoulder by a bandoleer, and, like a 
wise man, lock uppermost. The other three had gone 
down with the boat. 

To add to our concern, we heard voices already draw- 
ing near us in the woods along shore ; and we had 
not only the danger of being cut off from the stock- 
ade in our half-crippled state, but the fear before us 
whether, if Hunter and Joyce were attacked by half a 
dozen, they would have the sense and conduct to stand 
firm. Hunter was steady, that we knew • Joyce was a 
doubtful case — a pleasant, polite man for a valet, and to 


L40 


TREASURE ISLAND 


brush one’s clothes, but not entirely fitted for a man of 
war. 

With all this in our minds, we waded ashore as fast 
as we could, leaving behind us the poor jolly-boat, and 
% good half of all our powder and provisions. 



CHAPTER XVIII 


NARRATIVE CONTINUED BY THE DOCTOR : END OF THE 
FIRST day’s fighting 

We made our best speed across the strip of wood that 
now divided us from the stockade ; and at every step wt 
took the voices of the buccaneers rang nearer. Soon we 
could hear their footfalls as they ran, and the cracking 
of the branches as they breasted across a bit of thicket. 

I began to see we should have a brush for it in earnest, 
and looked to my priming. 

Captain,” said I, Trelawney is the dead shot. 
Give him your gun ; his own is useless.” 

They exchanged guns, and Trelawney, silent and cool 
as he had been since the beginning of the bustle, hung 
a moment on his heel to see that all was fit for service. 
At the same time, observing Gray to be unarmed, I 
handed him my cutlass. It did all our hearts good to 
see him spit in his hand, knit his brows, and make the 
blade sing through the air. It was plain from every line 
of his body that our new hand was worth his salt. 

Forty paces farther we came to the edge of the wood 
and saw the stockade in front of ns. We struck the 
enclosure about the middle of the south side, and, almost 


142 


TREASURE ISLAND 


at the same time, seven mutineers — Job Anderson, the 
boatswain, at their head — appeared in full cry at the 
south-western corner. 

They paused, as if taken aback ; and before they 
recovered, not only the squire and I, but Hunter and 
Joyce from the block-house, had time to fire. The 
four shots came in rather a scattering volley ; but they 
did the business : one of the enemy actually fell, and 
the rest, without hesitation, turned and plunged into 
the trees. 

After reloading, we walked down the outside of the 
palisade to see to the fallen enemy. He was stone dead 
— shot through the heart. 

We began to rejoice over our good success, when 
just at that moment a pistol cracked in the bush, a ball 
whistled close past my ear, and poor Tom Redruth 
stumbled and fell his length on the ground. Both the 
squire and I returned the shot ; but as we had nothing 
to aim at, it is probable we only wasted powder. Then 
we reloaded, and turned our attention to poor Tom. 

The captain and Gray were already examining him ; 
and I saw with half an eye that all was over. 

I believe the readiness of our return volley had scat- 
tered the mutineers once more, for we were suffered 
without further molestation to get the poor old game- 
keeper hoisted over the stockade, and carried, groaning 
and bleeding, into the log-house. 

Poor old fellow, he had not uttered one word of sur- 


END OF THE FIEST DAYS FIGHTING 


143 


prise, complaint, fear, or even acquiescence, from the 
very beginning of our troubles till now, when we had 
laid him down in the log-house to die. He had. lain 
like a Trojan behind his mattress in the gallery ; he had 
followed every order silently, doggedly, and well ; he 
was the oldest of our party by a score of years ; and 
now, sullen, old, serviceable servant, it was he that was 
to die. 

The squire dropped down beside him on his knees 
and kissed his hand, crying like a child. 

Be I going, doctor ?” he asked. 

“ Tom, my man,” said I, ‘^you^re going home.” 

“ I wish I had had a lick at them with the gun first,” 
he replied. 

‘‘ Tom,” said the squire, say you forgive me, won^t 
you ? ” 

Would that be respectful like, from me to you, 
squire ?” was the answer. Howsoever, so be it, 
amen !” 

After a little while of silence, he said he thought 
somebody might read a prayer. “ Ifs the custom, sir,” 
he added, apologetically. And not long after, without 
another word, he passed away. 

In the meantime the captain, whom I had observed 
to be wonderfully swollen about the chest and pockets, 
had turned out a great many various stores — the British 
colours, a Bible, a coil of stoutish rope, pen, ink, the 
log-book, and pounds of tobacco. He had found a 


144 


TREASUKE ISLAND 


longish fir-tree lying felled and cleared in the enclosure, 
and, with the help of Hunter, he had set it up at the 
corner of the log-house where the trunks crossed and 
made an angle. Then, climbing on the roof, he had 
with his own hand bent and run up the colours. 

This seemed mightily to relieve him. He re-entered 
the log-house, and set about counting up the stores, as 
if nothing else existed. But he had an eye on Tom’s 
passage for all that ; and as soon as all was over, came 
forward with another flag, and reverently spread it on 
the body. 

“ Don’t you take on, sir,” he said, shaking the 
squire’s hand. All’s well with him ; no fear for a 
hand that’s been shot down in his duty to captain and 
owner. It mayn’t be good divinity, but it’s a fact.” 

Then he pulled me aside. 

Dr. Livesey,” he said, in how many weeks do you 
and squire expect the consort ? ” 

I told him it was a question, not of weeks, but of 
mouths ; that if we were not back by the end of August, 
Blandly was to send to find us ; but neither sooner nor 
later. “ You can calculate for yourself,” I said. 

Why, yes,” returned the captain, scratching his 
head, and making a large allowance, sir, for all the 
gifts of Providence, I should say we were pretty close 
hauled.” 

How do you mean ? ” I asked. 

“ It’s a pity, sir, we lost that second load. That’s 


END OF THE FIRST DAY’S FIGHTING 145 


what I mean/’ replied the captain. As for powder 
and shot, we’ll do. But the rations are short, very 
short — so short. Dr. Livesey, that we’re, perhaps, as 
well without that extra mouth.” 

And he pointed to the dead body under the flag. 

Just then, with a roar and a whistle, a round-shot 
passed high above the roof of the log-house and plumped 
far beyond us in the wood. 

Oho ! ” said the captain. Blaze away ! You’ve 
little enough powder already, my lads.” 

At the second trial, the aim was better, and the ball 
descended inside the stockade, scattering a cloud of 
sand, but doing no further damage. 

Captain,” said the squire, “ the house is quite invis- 
ible from the ship. It must be the flag they are aiming 
at. Would it not be wiser to take it in ?” 

Strike my colours ! ” cried the captain. No, sir, 
not I ; ” and, as soon as he had said the words, I think 
we all agreed with him. For it was not only a piece of 
stout, seamanly, good feeling ; it was good policy be- 
sides, and showed our enemies that we despised their 
cannonade. 

All through the evening they kept thundering away. 
Ball after ball flew over or fell short, or kicked up the 
sand in the enclosure ; but they had to fire so high that 
the shot fell dead and buried itself in the soft sand. 
We had no ricochet to fear ; and though one popped in 

through the roof of the log-house and out again through 
10 


146 


TREASURE ISLAND 


the ftoor, we soon got used to that sort of horse-play, 
and minded it no more than cricket. 

There is one thing good about all this,” observed 
the captain : “ the wood in front of us is likely clear. 
The ebb has made a good while ; our stores should be 
uncovered. Volunteers to go and bring in pork.” 

Gray and Hunter were the first to come forward. 
Well armed, they stole out of the stockade ; but it 
proved a useless mission. The mutineers were bolder 
than we fancied, or they put more trust in Israel’s 
gunnery. For four or five of them w^ere busy carrying 
off our stores, and wading out with them to one of the 
gigs that lay close by, pulling an oar or so to hold her 
steady against the current. Silver was in the stern- 
sheets in command ; and every man of them w^as now 
provided with a musket from some secret magazine 
their own. 

The captain sat down to his log, and here is the begin 
ning of the entry : — 

Alexander Smollett, master ; David Livesey, ship’s 
doctor ; Abraham Gray, carpenter’s mate ; John Tre- 
lawney, owner ; John Hunter and Richard Joyce, own- 
er’s servants, landsmen — being all that is left faithfr^l 
of the ship’s company — with stores for ten days at short 
rations, came ashore this day, and flew British colours 
on the log-house in Treasure Island. Thomas Redruth, 
owner’s servant, landsman, shot by the mutineers ; 
James Hawkins, cabin-boy ” 


END OF THE FIRST DAY’s FIGHTING 


147 


And at the same time I was wondering over poor Jim 
Hawkins’s fate. 

A hail on the land side. 

Somebody hailing us,” said Hunter, who was on 
guard. 

Doctor ! squire ! captain ! Hullo, Hunter, is that 
you ? ” came the cries. 

vAnd I ran to the door in time to see Jim Hawkins, 
safe and sound, come climbing over the stockade. 


CHAPTER XIX 


NARRATIVE RESUMED BY JIM HAWKINS *. THE 
GARRISON IN THE STOCKADE 

As soon as Ben Gunn saw the colours he came to 
a halt, stopped me by the arm, and sat down. 

‘‘ Now,” said he, there’s your friends, sure enough.” 

“Far more likely it’s the mutineers,” I answered. 

“Thatl” he cried. “Why, in a place like this, 
where nobody puts in but gen’lemen of fortune. Silver 
would fly the Jolly Roger, you don’t make no doubt of 
that. No ; that’s your friends. There’s been blows, 
too, and I reckon your friends has had the best of it ; 
and here they are ashore in the old stockade, as was 
made years and years ago by Flint. Ah, he was the 
man to have a headpiece, was Flint ! Barring rum, his 
match were never seen. He were afraid of none, not 
he ; on’y Silver — Silver was that genteel.” 

“Well,” said I, “that may be so, and so be it; all 
the more reason that I should hurry on and join my 
friends.” 

'^"Nay, mate,” returned Ben, “not you. You’re a 
good boy, or I’m mistook ; but you’re on’y a boy, all 
told. Now, Ben Gunn is fly. Rum wouldn’t bring 


THE GARRISON IN THE STOCKADE 


149 


me there, where you^re going — not rum wouldn’t, till I 
see your born gen’leman, and gets it on his word of 
honour. And you won’t forget my words : ^ A precious 
sight (that’s what you’ll say), a precious sight more 
confidence ’ — and then nips him.” 

And he pinched me the third time with the same air 
of cleverness. 

And when Ben Gunn is wanted, you know where 
to find him, Jim. Just wheer you found him to-day. 
And him that comes is to have a white thing in his 
hand : and he’s to come alone. Oh ! and you’ll say 
this : ^ Ben Gunn,’ says you, ^ has reasons of his own.’ ” 

^'Well,” said I, “1 believe I understand. You have 
something to propose, and you wish to see the squire or 
the doctor ; and you’re to be found where I found you. 
Is that all ? ” 

“ And when ? says you,” he added. Why, from 
about noon observation to about six bells.” 

Good,” said I, ‘^and now may I go?” 

You won’t forget ? ” he inquired, anxiously. Pre- 
cious sight, and reasons of his own, says you. Reasons 
of his own ; that’s the mainstay ; as between man and 
man. Well, then ” — still holding me — I reckon you 
can go, Jim. And, Jim, if you was to see Silver, you 
wouldn’t go for to sell Ben Gunn ? wild horses wouldn’t 
draw it from you ? No, says you. And if them pirates 
camp ashore, Jim, what would you say but there’d be 
widders in the morning ? ” 


160 


TREASURE ISLAND 


Here he was interrupted by a loud report, and a 
cannon ball came tearing through the trees and pitched 
in the sand, not a hundred yards from where we two 
were talking. The next moment each of us had taken 
to his heels in a different direction. 

For a good hour to come frequent reports shook the 
island, and balls kept crashing through the woods. I 
moved from hiding-place to hiding-place, always pur- 
r’ed, or so it seemed to me, by these terrifying missiles. 
But towards the end of the bombardment, though still I 
durst not venture in the direction of the stockade, where 
the balls fell oftenest, I had begun, in a manner, to 
pluck up my heart again ; and after a long detour to 
the east, crept down among the shore-side trees. 

The sun had just set, the sea breeze was rustling 
and tumbling in the woods, and ruffling the grey sur- 
face of the anchorage ; the tide, too, was far out, and 
great tracts of sand lay uncovered ; the air, after the 
heat of the day, chilled me through my jacket. 

The Hispaniola still lay where she had anchored ; 
but, sure enough, there was the Jolly Roger — the black 
flag of piracy — flying from her peak. Even as I looked, 
there came another red flash and another report, that 
sent the echoes clattering, and one more round-shot 
whistled through the air. It was the last of the cannon- 
ade. 

I lay for some time, watching the bustle which suc- 
ceeded the attack. Men were demolishina somethina: 


THE GARRISON IN THE STOCKADE 


151 


with axes on the beach near the stockade ; the poor 
jolly-boat, I afterwards discovered. Away, near the 
mouth of the river, a great fire was glowing among 
the trees, and between that point and the ship one of 
the gigs kept coming and going, the men, whom I had 
seen so gloomy, shouting at the oars like children. But 
there was a sound in their voices which suggested rum. 

At length I thought I might return towards the 
stockade, I was pretty far down on the low, sandy spit 
that incloses the anchorage to the east, and is joined at 
half-water to Skeleton Island ; and now, as I rose to my 
feet, I saw, some distance further down the spit, and 
rising from among low bushes, an isolated rock, pretty 
high, and peculiarly white in colour. It occurred to me 
that this might be the white rock of which Ben Gunn 
had spoken, and that some day or other a boat might be 
wanted, and I should know where to look for one. 

Then I skirted among the woods until I had regained 
the rear, or shoreward side, of the stockade, and was 
soon warmly welcomed by the faithful party. 

I had soon told my story, and began to look about 
^ me. The log-house was made of unsquared trunks of 
I pine — roof, walls, and floor. The latter stood in several 
places as much as a foot or a foot and a half above the 
surface of the sand. There was a porch at the door, 
and under this porch the little spring welled up into an 
artificial basin of a rather odd kind — no other than a 
great ship’s kettle of iron, with the bottom knocked out. 


152 


TREASURE ISLAND 


and sunk “ to her bearings,” as the captain said, among 
the sand. 

Little had been left beside the framework of the 
house ; but in one corner there was a stone slab laid 
down by way of hearth, and an old rusty iron basket to 
contain the fire. 

The slopes of the knoll and all the inside of the 
stockade had been cleared of timber to build the house, 
and we could see by the stumps what a fine and lofty 
grove had been destroyed. Most of the soil had been 
washed away or buried in drift after the removal of the 
trees ; only where the streamlet ran down from the 
kettle a thick bed of moss and some ferns and little 
creeping bushes were still green among the sand. Very 
close around the stockade — too close for defence, they 
said — the wood still fiourished high and dense, all of fir 
on the laud side, but towards the sea with a large 
admixture of live-oaks. 

The cold evening breeze of which I have spoken, 
whistled through every chink of the rude building, and 
sprinkled the fioor with a continual rain of fine sand. 
There was sand in our eyes, sand in our teeth, sand in 
our suppers, sand dancing in the spring at the bottom 
of the kettle, for all the world like porridge beginning 
to boil. Our chimney was a square hole in the roof ; it 
was but a little part of the smoke that found its way 
out, and the rest eddied about the house, and kept us 
coughing and piping the eye. 


THE GARRISON IN THE STOCKADE 


163 


Add to this that Gray, the new man, had his face 
tied up in a bandage for a cut he had got in breaking 
away from the mutineers'; and that poor old Tom 
Eedruth, still unburied, lay along the wall, stiff and 
stark, under the Union Jack. 

If we had been allowed to sit idle, we should all 
have fallen in the blues, Uut Captain Smollett was never 
the man for that. All hands Avere called up before him, 
and he divided us into watches. The doctor, and Gray, 
and I, for one ; the squire. Hunter, and Joyce upon 
the other. Tired as we all were, two were sent out 
for firewood ; two more were set to dig a grave for 
Eedruth ; the doctor was named cook ; I was put sentry 
at the door ; and the captain himself went from one to 
another, keeping up our spirits and lending a hand 
wherever it was wanted. 

From time to time the doctor came to the door for 
a little air and to rest his eyes, which were almost 
smoked out of his head ; and whenever he did so, he 
had a word for me. 

That man Smollett,” he said once, “ is a better 
man than I am. And when I say* that it means a deal, 
Jim.” 

Another time he came and was silent for a while. 
Then he put his head on one side, and looked at me. 

“ Is this Ben Gunn a man ? ” he asked. 

I do not know, sir,” said I. I am not very sure 
whether he^s sane.” 


154 


TREASURE ISLAND 


If there’s any doubt about the matter, he is,** 
returned the doctor. A man who has been three years 
biting his nails on a desert island, Jim, can’t expect to 
appear as sane as you or me. It doesn’t lie in human 
nature. Was it cheese you said he had a fancy for ?” 

Yes, sir, cheese,” I answered. 

Well, Jim,” says he, “ just see the good that comes 
of being dainty in your food. You’ve seen my snuff- 
box, haven’t you ? And you never saw me take snuff ; 
the reason being that in my snuff-box I carry a piece of 
Parmesan cheese — a cheese made in Italy, very nutri- 
tious. Well, that’s for Ben Gunn ! ” 

Before supper was eaten we buried old Tom in the ' 
sand, and stood round him for a while bare-headed in 
the breeze. A good deal of firewood had been got in, 
but not enough for the captain’s fancy ; and he shook 
his head over it, and told us we must get back to this 
to-morrow rather livelier.” Then, when we had eaten 
our pork, and each had a good stiff glass of brandy grog, 
the three chiefs got together in a corner to discuss our 
prospects. 

It appears they were at their wits’ end what to do, the 
stores being so low that we must have been starved into 
surrender long before help came. But our best hope, it 
was decided, was to kill off the buccaneers until they 
hauled down their flag or ran aAvay with the Hispaniola. ; 
From nineteen they were already reduced to fifteen, two i 
others were wounded, and one, at least — the man shot;, 


THE GAKRISON IN THE STOCKADE 


156 


beside the gun — severely wounded, if he were not dead. 
Every time we had a crack at them, we were to take it, 
saving our own lives, with the extremest care. And, be- 
sides that, we had two able allies — rum and the climate. 

As for the first, though we were about half a mile 
away, we could hear them roaring and singing late into 
the night ; and as for the second, the doctor staked his 
wig that, camped where they were in the marsh and 
unprovided with remedies, the half of them would be on 
their backs before a week. 

“ So,” he added, if we are not all shot down first 
they^ll be glad to be packing in the schooner. It’s 
always a ship, and they can get to buccaneering again, 
I suppose,” 

“ First ship that ever I lost,” said Captain 
Smollett. 

I was dead tired, as you may fancy ; and when I got 
to sleep, which was not till after a great deal of tossing, 
I slept like a log of wood. 

The rest had long been up, and had already break- 
fasted and increased the pile of firewood by about half as 
much again, when I was awakened by a bustle and the 
sound of voices. 

Flag of truce ! ” I heard someone say ; and then 
immediately after, with a cry of surprise, Silver him- 
self !” 

And, at that, up I jumped, and, rubbing my eyes, 
ran to a loophole in the wall. 


CHAPTER XX ii: 

silver’s embassy 

Sure enough, there were two men Just outside the ; 
stockade, one of them waving a white cloth ; the other, 
no less a person than Silver himself, standing placidly by. 

It was ptill quite early, and the coldest morning that 
I think I ever was abroad in ; a chill that pierced into 
the marrow. The sky was bright and cloudless over- 
head, and the tops of the trees shone rosily in the sun. 
But where Silver stood with his lieutenant all was still 
in shadow, and they waded knee deep in a low, white 
vapour, that had crawled during the night out of the 
morass. The chill and the vapour taken together told a 
poor tale of the island. It was plainly a damp, feverish, 
unhealthy spot. 

Keep indoors, men,” said the captain. ** Ten to 
one this is a trick.” 

Then he hailed the buccaneer. 

^^Who goes ? Stand, or we fire.” 

^^Elag of truce,” cried Silver. 

The captain was in the porch, keeping himself care- 
fully out of the way of a treacherous shot should any 
be intended. He turned and spoke to us : — 


SILVER S EMBASSr 


167 


Doctor^’s watch on the look out. Dr. Livesey take 
the north side, if you please ; Jim, the east ; Gray, 
west. The watch below, all hands to load muskets. 
Lively, men, and careful. 

And then he turned again to the mutineers. 

“And what do you want with your flag of truce ?” 
he cried. 

This time it was the other man who replied. 

“ Cap’n Silver, sir, to come on board and make 
terms,” he shouted. 

“Cap^n Silver ! Don’t know him. Who’s he ?” cried 
the captain. And we could hear him adding to himself : 
“ Cap’n, is it ? My heart, and here’s promotion ! ” 

Long John answered for himself. 

“ Me, sir. These poor lads have chosen me cap’n, 
after your desertion, sir ” — laying a particular emphasis 
upon the word “ desertion.” “ We’re willing to submit, 
if we can come to terms, and no bones about it. All I 
ask is your word, Cap’n Smollett, to let me safe and 
sound out of this here stockade, and one minute to get 
out o’ shot before a gun is fired.” 

“ My man,” said Captain Smollett, “ I have not the 
slightest desire to talk to you. If you wish to talk to 
me, you can come, that’s all. If there’s any treachery, 
it’ll be on your side, and the Lord help you.” 

“ That’s enough, cap’n,” shouted Long John, cheerily. 
“ A word from you’s enough. I know a gentleman, and 
you may lay to that.” 


158 


TREASURE ISLAND 


We could see the man who carried the flag of truce 
attempting to hold Silver back. Nor was that wonder- 
ful, seeing how cavalier had been the captain’s answer. 
But Silver laughed at him aloud, and slapped him on 
the back, as if the idea of alarm had been absurd. 
Then he advanced to the stockade, threw over his 
crutch, got a leg up, and with great vigour and skill 
succeeded in surmounting the fence and dropping safely 
to the other side. 

I will confess that I was far too much taken up with 
what was going on to be of the slightest use as sentry ; 
indeed, I had already deserted my eastern loophole, and 
crept up behind the captain, who had now seated him- 
self on the threshold, with his elbows on his knees, his 
head in his hands, and his eyes fixed on the water, as it 
bubbled out of the old iron kettle in the sand. He was 
whistling to himself, “ Come, Lasses and Lads.” 

Silver had terrible hard work getting up the knoll. 
What with the steepness of the incline, the thick tree 
stumps, and the soft sand, he and his crutch were as 
helpless as a ship in stays. But he stuck to it like a 
man in silence, and at last arrived before the captain, 
whom he saluted in the handsomest style. He was 
tricked out in his best ; an immense blue coat, thick 
with brass buttons, hung as low as to his knees, and a 
fine laced hat was set on the back of his head. 

“ Here you are, my man,” said the captain, raising 
his head. “You had better sit down.” 


silver’s embassy 


159 


You ain^t a-going to let me inside, cap’n ? ” com- 
plained Long John. “ It’s a main cold morning, to be 
sure, sir, to sit outside upon the sand.” 

‘‘ Why, Silver,” said the captain, ‘‘if you had pleased 
to he an honest man, you might have been sitting in 
your galley. It’s your own doing. You’re either my 
ship’s cook — and then you were treated handsome — or 
Cap’n Silver, a common mutineer and pirate, and then 
you can go hang ! ” 

“ Well, well, cap’n,” returned the sea cook, sitting 
down as he was bidden on the sand, “ you’ll have to 
give me a hand up again, that’s all. A sweet pretty 
place you have of it here. Ah, there’s Jim ! The top 
of the morning to you, Jim. Doctor, here’s my service. 
Why, there you all are together like a happy family, in 
a manner of speaking.” 

“ If you have anything to say, my man, better say it,” 
said the captain. 

“Right you were, Cap’n Smollett,” replied Silver. 
“ Dooty is dooty, to be sure. Well, now, you look here,, 
that was a good lay of yours last night. I don’t deny it 
was a good lay. Some of you pretty handy with a 
handspike-end. And I’ll not deny neither but what 
some of my people was shook — maybe all was shook ; 
maybe I was shook myself ; maybe that’s why I’m here 
for terms. But you mark me, cap’n, it won’t do twice, 
by thunder ! We’ll have to do sentry-go, and ease off a 
point or so on the rum, Maybe you think we were all 


160 


TREASURE ISLAND 


a sheet in the wind’s eye. But I’ll tell you I was sober ; 
I was on’y dog tired ; and if I’d awoke a second sooner 
I’d a’ caught you at the act, I would. He wasn’t dead 
when I got round to him, not he.” 

“ Well ? ” says Captain Smollett, as cool as can be. 

All that Silver said was a riddle to him, but you 
would never have guessed it from his tone. As for me, 

I began to have an inkling. Ben Gunn’s last words 
came back to my mind. I began to suppose that he had 
paid the buccaneers a visit while they all lay drunk 
together round their fire, and I reckoned up with glee, 
that we had only fourteen enemies to deal with. 

‘‘Well, here it is,” said Silver. “We want that 
treasure, and we’ll have it — that’s our point ! Yon 
would just as soon save your lives, I reckon ; and that’s 
yours. You have a chart, haven’t you ?” 

“ That’s as may be,” replied the captain. 

“ Oh, well, you have, I know that,” returned Long 
John. “ You needn’t be so husky with a man ; there 
ain’t a particle of service in that, and you may lay to it. 
What I mean is, we want your chart. Now, I never 
meant you no harm, myself.” 

“ That won’t do with me, my man,” interrupted the 
captain. “ We know exactly what you meant to do, 
and we don’t care ; for now, you see, you can’t do it.” 

And the captain looked at him calmly, and proceeded 
to fill a pipe. 

“ If Abe Gray- 


Silver broke out. 


silver’s embassy 


161 


Avast there ! ” cried Mr. Smollett. Gray told 
me nothing, and I asked him nothing ; and what’s more 
I would see you and him and this whole island blown 
clean out of the water into blazes first. So there’s my 
mind for you, my man, on that.” 

This little whiff of temper seemed to cool Silver 
down. He had been growing nettled before, but now he 
pulled himself together. 

Like enough,” said he. I would set no limits to 
what gentlemen might consider shipshape, or might not, 
as the case were. And, seein’ as how you are about to 
take a pipe, cap’n. I’ll make so free as do likewise.” 

And he filled a pipe and lighted it ; and the two men 
sat silently smoking for quite a while, now looking each 
other in the face, now stopping their tobacco, now lean- 
ing forward to spit. It was as good as the play to see 
them. 

“ Now,” resumed Silver, “ here it is. You give us the 
chart to get the treasure by, and drop shooting poor sea- 
men, and stoving of their heads in while asleep. You 
do that, and we’ll offer you a choice. Eitb.er you come 
aboard along of us, once the treasure shipped, and then 
I’ll give you my affy-davy, upon my word of honour, to 
clap you somewhere safe ashore. Or, if that ain’t to 
your fancy, some of my hands being rough, and having 
old scores, on account of hazing, then you can stay here, 
you can. We’ll divide stores with you, man for man ; 

and I’ll give my affy-davy, as before, to speak the first 
11 


162 


TREASURE ISLAND 


ship I sight, and send ^ein here to pick you up. Now 
you’ll own that’s talking. Handsomer yon couldn’t look 
to get, not you. And I hope ” — raising his voice — 

that all hands in this here block-house will overhaul 
my words, for wdiat is spoke to one is spoke to all.” 

Captain Smollett rose from his seat, and knocked out 
the ashes of his pipe in the palm of his left hand. 

‘‘Is that all ?” he asked. 

“Every last word, by thunder!” answered John. 

“ Eefuse that, and you’ve seen the last of me but 
musket-balls.” 

“ Very good,” said the captain. “Now you’ll hear - 
me. If you’ll come up one by one, unarmed. I’ll engage 
to clap you all in irons and take you home to a fair trial 
in England. If you won’t, my name is Alexander 
Smollett, I’ve flown my sovereign’s colours, and I’ll see 
you all to Davy Jones. You can’t find the treasure. 
You can’t sail the ship — there’s not a man among you fit 
to sail the ship. You can’t fight us — Gray, there, got 
away from five of you. Your ship’s in irons. Master Sil- 
ver ; you’re on a lee shore, and so you’ll find. I stand 
here and tell you so ; and they’re the last good words 
lyou’ll get from me ; for, in the name of heaven. I’ll put 
a bullet in your back when next I meet you. Tramp, 
my lad. Bundle out of this, please, hand over hand, 
and double quick.” 

Silver’s face was a picture ; his eyes started in hi? 
head with wrath. He shook the fire out of his pipe. 


silver’s embassy 


163 


** Give me a hand up ! ” he cried. 

Not I/’ returned the captain. 

Who’ll give me a hand up ? ” he roared. 

Not a man among us moved. Growling the foulest 
imprecations, he crawled along the sand till he got hold 
of the porch and could hoist himself again upon his 
crutch. Then he spat into the spring. 

There ! ” he cried, “ that’s what I think of ye. 
Before an hour’s out. I’ll stove in your old block- house 
like a rum puncheon. Laugh, by thunder, laugh ! 
Before an hour’s out, ye’ll laugh upon the other side. 
Them that die’ll be the lucky ones.” 

And with a dreadful oath he stumbled off, ploughed 
down the sand, was helped across the stockade, after 
four or five failures, by the man with the flag of truce, 
and disappeared in an instant afterwards among the 
trees. 


CHAPTER XXI 

THE ATTACK 

As soon as Silver disappeared, the captain, who had 
been closely watching him, turned towards the interior 
of the house, and found not a man of us at his post 
but Gray. It was the first time we had ever seen him 
angry. 

Quarters!” he roared. And then, as we all slunk 
hack to our places, “ Gray,” he said, “ I’ll put your 
name in the log ; you’ve stood by your duty like a 
seaman. Mr. Trelawney, I’m surprised at you, sir. 
Doctor, I thought you had worn the king’s coat ! If 
that was how you served at Fontenoy, sir, you’d have 
been better in your berth.” 

The doctor’s watch were all hack at their loopholes, 
tlie rest were busy loading the spare muskets, and every 
one with a red face, you may be certain, and a flea in his 
ear, as the saying is. 

The captain looked on for a while in silence. Then 
he spoke. 

“ My lads,” said he, ‘‘ I’ve given Silver a broadside. 
I pitched it in red-hot on purpose ; and before the 
hour’s out, as he said, we shall be boarded. We’re 


THE ATTACK 


165 


outnumbered, I needn't tell you that, but we fight 
in shelter; and, a minute ago, I should have. said we 
fought with discipline. I’ve no manner of doubt that 
we can drub them, if you choose.” 

Then he went the rounds, and saw, as he said, that; 
all was clear. 

On the two short sides of the house, east and west, 
there were only two loopholes ; on the south side where 
the porch was, two again ; and on the north side, five. 
There was a round score of muskets for the seven of us ; 
the firewood had been built into four piles — tables, you 
might say — one about the middle of each side, and ou 
each of these tables some ammunition and four loaded 
muskets were laid ready to the hand of the defenders. 
In the middle, the cutlasses lay ranged. 

“ Toss out the fire,” said the captain ; “ the chill is 
past, and we mustn’t have smoke in our eyes.” 

The iron fire basket was carried bodily out by Mr. 
Trelawney, and the embers smothered among sand. 

Hawkins hasn’t had his breakfast. Hawkins, help 
yourself, and back to your post to eat it,” continued 
Captain Smollett. Lively, now, my lad ; you’ll want 
it before you’ve done. Hunter, serve out a round of 
brandy to all hands.” 

And while this was going on, the captain completed, 
in his own mind, the plan of the defence. 

“ Doctor, you will take the door,” he resumed. 

See, and don’t expose yourself ; keep within, and fire 


166 


TREASURE ISLAND 


through the porch. Hunter, take the east side, there. 
Joyce, you stand by the west, my man. Mr. Trelawney, 
you are the best shot — you and Gray will take this long 
north side, with the five loopholes ; it’s there the dan- 
ger is. If they can get up to it, and fire in upon us 
through our own ports, things would begin to look 
dirty. Hawkins, neither you nor I are much account 
at the shooting ; we’ll stand by to load and bear a 
hand.” 

As the captain had said, the chill was past. As soon 
as the sun had climbed above our girdle of trees, it fell 
with all its force upon the clearing, and drank up the 
vapours at a draught. Soon the sand was baking, 
and the resin melting in the logs of the block -house. 
Jackets and coats were flung aside ; shirts thrown open 
at the neck, and rolled up to the shoulders ; and we 
stood there, each at his post, in a fever of heat and 
anxiety. 

An hour passed away. 

Hang them ! ” said the captain. “ This is as dull as 
the doldrums. Gray, whistle for a wind.” 

And just at that moment came the first news of the 
attack. 

“ If you please, sir,” said Joyce, if I see anyone am 
I to fire ?” 

I told you so ! ” cried the. captain. 

Thank you, sir,” returned Joyce, with the same 
quiet civility. 


THE ATTACK 


leY 

Nothing followed for a time ; but the remark had set 
us all on the alert, straining ears and eyes— the musket- 
eers with their pieces balanced in their hands, the cap- 
tain out in the middle of the block-house, with his 
‘ mouth very tight and a frown on his face. 

So some seconds passed, till suddenly Joyce whipped 
up his musket and fired. The report had scarcely died 
away ere it was repeated and repeated from without in a 
^ scattering volley, shot behind shot, like a string of geese, 
from every side of the enclosure. Several bullets struck 
the log-house, but not one entered ; and, as the smoke 
cleared away and vanished, the stockade and the woods 
around it looked as quiet and empty as before. Not a 
bough waved, not the gleam of a musket-barrel betrayed 
the presence of our foes. 

‘^Did you hit your man ?” asked the captain. 

No, sir,^’ replied Joyce. I believe not, sir.” 

“ Next best thing to tell the truth,” muttered Cap- 
tain Smollett. “ Load his gun, Hawkins. How many 
should you say there were on your side, doctor ? ” 

‘‘ I know precisely,” said Dr. Livesey. “ Three shots 
were fired on this side. I saw the three fiashes — two 
close together — one farther to the west.” 

“Three!” repeated the captain. “And how many 
on yours, Mr. Trelawney ? ” 

But this was not so easity answered. There had come 
many from the north — seven, by the squire’s computa- 
tion ; eight or nine, according to Gray. From the east 


168 


TEEASURE ISLAND 


and west only a single shot had been fired. It was 
plain, therefore, that the attack would be developed 
from the north, and that on the other three sides we 
were only to be annoyed by a show of hostilities. But 
Captain Smollett made no change in his arrangements. 
If the mutineers succeeded in crossing the stockade, he 
argued, they would take possession of any unprotected 
loophole, and shoot us down like rats in our own strong- 
hold. 

Nor had we much time left to us for thought. Sud- 
denly, with a loud huzza, a little cloud of pirates leaped 
from the woods on the north side, and ran straight on 
the stockade. At the same moment, the fire was once 
liiore opened from the woods, and a rifle ball sang 
through the doorway, and knocked the doctor’s musket 
into bits. 

The boarders swarmed over the fence like monkeys. 
Squire and Gray fired again and yet again ; three men 
fell, one forwards into the enclosure, two back on the 
outside. But of these, one was evidently more fright- 
ened than hurt, for he was on his feet again in a crack, 
and instantly disappeared among the trees. 

Two had bit the dust, one had fled, four had made 
good their footing inside our defences ; while from the 
shelter of the woods seven or eight men, each evidently 
supplied with several muskets, kept up a hot though 
useless fire on the log-house. 

The four who had boarded made straight before them 


THE ATTACK 


169 


for the building, sliouting as they ran, and the men 
among the trees shouted back to encourage them. 
Several shots were fired ; but, such was the hurry of the 
marksmen, that not one appears to have taken effect. 
In a moment, the four pirates had swarmed up the 
mound and were upon us. 

The head of Job Anderson, the boatswain, appeared 
at the middle loophole. 

‘" At ^em, all hands — all hands he roared, in a 
voice of thunder. 

At the same moment, another pirate grasped Hunter’s 
musket by the muzzle, wrenched it from his hands, 
plucked it through the loophole, and, with one stunning 
blow, laid the poor fellow senseless on the fioor. Mean- 
while a third, running unharmed all round the house, 
appeared suddenly in the doorway, and fell with his 
cutlass on the doctor. 

Our position was utterly reversed. A moment since 
we were firing, under cover, at an exposed enemy ; now 
it was we who lay uncovered, and could not return a 
blow. 

The log-house was full of smoke, to which we owed 
our comparative safety. Cries and confusion, the hashes 
and reports of pistol shots, and one loud groan, rang in 
my ears. 

“ Out, lads, out, and fight ’em in the open ! Cut- 
lasses !” cried the captain. 

I snatched a cutlass from the pile, and someone, at 


170 


TREASURE ISLAND 


the game time snatching another, gave me a cut asross 
the knuckles which I hardly felt. I dashed out of the 
door into the clear sunlight. Someone was close be- 
hind, I knew not whom. Eight in front, the doctor 
was pursuing his assailant down the hill, and, just as my 
eyes fell upon him, beat down his guard, and sent him 
sprawling on his back, with a great slash across the face. 

“ Kound the house, lads ! round the house ! ” cried 
the captain ; and even in the hurly-burly I perceived a 
change in his voice. 

Mechanically I obeyed, turned eastwards, and with 
my cutlass raised, ran round the corner of the house. 
Next moment I was face to face with Anderson. He 
roared aloud, and his hanger went up above his head, 
flashing in the sunlight. I had not time to be afraid, 
but, as the blow still hung impending, leaped in a trice 
upon one side, and missing my foot in the soft sand, 
rolled headlong down the slope. 

When I had flrst sallied from the door, the other 
mutineers had been already swarming up the palisade 
to make an end of .us. One man, in a red night-cap, 
with his cutlass in his mouth, had even got upon the 
top and thrown a leg across. Well, so short had been 
the interval, that when I found my feet again all was 
in the same posture, the fellow with the red night-cap 
still half way over, another still just showing his head 
above the top of the stockade. And yet, in this breath 
gf time, the fight was over, apd the victory was oui;s, 


THE ATTACK 


171 


Gray^ following close behind me, had cut down the 
big boatswain ere he had time to recover from his lost 
blow. Another had been shot at a loophole in the very 
act of firing into the house, and noAV lay in agony, the 
pistol still smoking in his hand. A third, as I had 
seen, the doctor had disposed of at a blow. Of the 
four who had scaled the palisade, one only remained 
unaccounted for, and he, having left his cutlass on the 
field, was now clambering out again with the fear of 
death upon him. 

Fire — fire from the house ! ’’ cried the doctor. 

And you, lads, back into cover.” 

But his words were unheeded, no shot was fired, and 
the last boarder made good his escape, and disappeared 
with the rest into the wood. In three seconds nothing 
remained of the attacking party but the five who had 
fallen, four on the inside, and one on the outside, of the 
palisade. 

The doctor and Gray and I ran full speed for shelter- 
The survivors would soon be back where they had 
left their muskets, and at any moment the fire might 
recommence. 

The house was by this time somewhat cleared of^ 
smoke, and we saw at a glance the price we had paid 
for victory. Hunter lay beside his loophole, stunned ; 
Joyce by his, shot through the head, never to move 
again ; while right in the centre, the squire was sup- 
porting the captain, one as pale as the other. 


172 


TREASURE ISLAND 


The captain's wounded,” said Mr. Trelawne). 

“ Have they run ? ” asked Mr. Smollett. 

“ All that could, you may be bound,” returned the 
doctor ; ‘^but there’s five of them will never run again.” 

“Five!” cried the captain. “Come, that’s better. 
Five against three leaves us four to nine. That’s better 
odds than we had at starting. We were seven to nine- 
teen then, or thought we were, and that’s as bad to 
bear.” * 


* The mutineers were soon only eight in number, for the man 
shot by Mr. Trelawney on board the schooner died that same 
evening of his wound. But this was of course, not known til) 
after by the faithful party. 


IPart V 

MY SEA ADVENTURE 


CHAPTER XXII 

HOW I BEGAN MY SEA ADVENTURE 

There was no return of the mutineers — not so much 
as another shot out of the woods. They had got their 
rations for that day/’ as the captain put it, and we had 
the place to ourselves and a quiet time to overhaul the 
wounded and get dinner. Squire and I cooked outside 
in spite of the danger, and even outside we could hardly 
tell what we were at, for horror of the loud groans that 
reached us from the doctor’s patients. 

Out of the eight meu who had fallen in the action, 
only three still breathed — that one of the pirates who 
had been shot at the loophole. Hunter, and Captain 
Smollett ; and of these the first two were as good as 
dead ;.the mutineer, indeed, died under the doctor’s 
knife, and Hunter, do what we could, never recovered 
consciousness in tliis world. He lingered all day, 
breathing loudly like the old buccaneer at home in his 


174 


TREASURE ISLAND 


apoplectic fit ; but the bones of his chest had been 
crushed by the blow and his skull fractured in falling, 
and some time in the following night, without sign or 
sound, he went to his Maker. 

As for the captain, his wounds were grievous indeed, 
but not dangerous. No organ was fatally injured. 
Anderson’s ball — for it was Job that shot him first — 
had broken his shoulder-blade and touched the lung, 
not badly ; the second had only torn and displaced some 
muscles in the calf. He was sure to recover, the doctor 
said, but, in the meantime and for weeks to come, he 
must not walk nor move his arm, nor so much as speak 
when he could help it. 

My own accidental cut across the knuckles was a 
flea-bite. Dr. Livesey patched it up with plaster, and 
pulled my ears for me into the bargain. 

After dinner the squire and the doctor sat by the cap- 
tain’s side a while in consultation ; and when they had 
talked to their hearts’ content, it being then a little past 
noon, the doctor took up his hat and pistols, girt on a 
cutlass, put the chart in his pocket, and with a musket 
over his shoulder, crossed the palisade on the north side, 
and set off briskly through the trees. , 

Gray and I were sitting together at the far end of the 
block -house, to be out of earshot of our officers consult- 
ing ; and Gray took his pipe out of his mouth and fairly 
forgot to put it back again, so thunder-struck he was at 
this occurrence. 


HOW 1 BEGAN MY SEA ADVENTURE 


175 


•• Why, iu the name of Davy Jones,^^ said he, 

Dr. Livesey mad ? ” 

Why, no,” says 1. He’s about the last of this 
crew for that, I take it.” 

“ Well, shij)mate,” said Gray, mad he may not be ; 
but if he’s not, you mark my words, I am.” 

I take it,” replied I, “ the doctor has his idea ; 
and if I am right, he’s going now to see Ben Gunn.” 

I was right, as appeared later ; but, in the meantime, 
the house being stifling hot, and the little patch of sand 
inside the palisade ablaze with midday sun, I began to 
get another thought into my head, which was not by 
any means so right. What I began to do was to envy 
the doctor, walking in the cool shadow of the woods, 
with the birds about him, and the pleasant smell of the 
pines, while I sat grilling, Avith my clothes stuck to the 
hot resin, and so much blood about me, and so many 
poor dead bodies lying all around, that I took a disgust 
of the place that was almost as strong as fear. 

All the time I was Avashing out the block-house, and 
then Avashing up the things from dinner, this disgust 
and eiiA'y kept groAving stronger and stronger, till at 
last, being near a bread-bag, and no one then observing 
me, I took the first step toAvards my escapade, and filled 
both pockets of my coat Avith biscuit. 

I Avas a fool, if you like, and certainly I was going 
to do a foolish, oA'er-bold act ; but I aa'us determined 
to do it Avith all the precautions in my power. These 


176 


TKEASURE ISLAND 


biscuits, should anythiug befall me, would keep me, at 
least, from starving till far on in the next day. 

The next thing I laid hold of was a brace of pistols, 
and as I already had a powder-horn and bullets, I felt 
myself well supplied with arms.' 

As for the scheme I had in my head, it was not a 
bad one in itself. I was to go down the sandy spit 
that divides the anchorage on the east from the open 
sea, find the white rock I had observed last evening 
and ascertain whether it was there or not that Ben 
Gunn had hidden his boat ; a thing quite worth doing, 
as I still believe. But as I was certain I should not be 
allowed to leave the enclosure, my only plan was to take 
French leave, and slip out when nobody was watching ; 
and that was so bad a way of doing it as made the 
thing itself wrong. But I was only a boy, and I had 
made my mind up. 

Well, as things at last fell out, I found an admirable 
opportunity. The squire and Gray were busy helping 
the captain with his bandages ; the coast was clear ; 
I made a bolt for it over the stockade and into the 
thickest of the trees, and before my absence was observed 
I was out of cry of my companions. 

This was my second folly, far worse than the first, 
as I left but two sound men to guard the house ; but 
like the first, it was a help towards saving all of us. 

I took my way straight for the east co^tst of the 
island, for I was determined to go down the sea side of 


HOW I BEGAN MY SEA ADVENTURE 177 


the spit to avoid all chance of observation from the an- 
chorage. It was already late in the afternoon, although 
still warm and sunny. As I continued to thread the tall 
woods I could hear from far before me not only the 
continuous thunder of the surf, but a certain tossing of 
foliage and grinding of boughs which showed me the 
sea breeze had set in higher than usual. Soon cool 
draughts of air began to reach me ; and a few steps 
farther I came forth into the open borders of the grove, 
and saw the sea lying blue and sunny to the horizon, 
and the surf tumbling and tossing its foam along the 
beach. 

I have never seen the sea quiet round Treasure Island. 
The sun might blaze overhead, the air be without a 
breath, the surface smooth and blue, but still these 
great rollers would be running along all the external 
coast, thundering and thundering by day and night ; 
and I scarce believe there is one spot in the island where 
a man would be out of earshot of their noise. 

I walked along beside the surf with great enjoyment, 
till, thinking I was now got far enough to the south, I 
took the cover of some thick bushes, and crept wariljt 
up to the ridge of the spit. 

Behind me was the sea, in front the anchorage. The 
sea breeze, as though it had the sooner blown itself out. 
by its unusual violence, was already at an end ; it had 
been succeeded by light, variable airs from the south 
and south-east, carrying great banks of fog ; and the 
12 


178 


TREASURE ISLAND 


anchorage, under lee of Skeleton Island, lay still and 
leaden as when first we entered it. The Hispaniola, in 
that unbroken mirror, was exactly portrayed from the 
truck to the water line, the Jolly Eoger hanging from 
I her peak. 

Alongside lay one of the gigs. Silver in the stern- 
sheets — him I could always recognize — while a couple 
of men were leaning over the stern bulwarks, one of 
them with a red cap — the very rogue that I had seen 
some hours before stride-legs upon the palisade. Ap- 
parently they were talking and laughing, though at 
that distance — upwards of a mile — I could, of course, 
hear no word of what was said. All at once, there 
began the most horrid, unearthly screaming, which at 
first startled me badly, though I had soon remembered 
the voice of Captain Flint, and even thought I could 
make out the bird by her bright plumage as she sat 
perched upon her master’s wrist. 

Soon after the jolly-boat shoved off and pulled for 
shore, and the man with the red cap and his comrade 
went below by the cabin companion. 

Just about the same time the sun had gone down 
oehind the Spy-glass, and as the fog was collecting 
rapidly, it began to grow dark in earnest. I saw I must 
lose no time if I were to find the boat that evening. 

The white rock, visible enough above the brush, was 
still some eighth of a mile further down the spit, and it 
took me a goodish while to get up with it, crawling. 


HOW 1 BEGAN MY SEA ADVENTURE 


179 


often on all-fours, among the scrub. Night had almost 
come when I laid my hand on its rough sides. Eight 
below it there was an exceedingly small hollow of green 
turf, hidden by banks and a thick underwood about 
knee-deep, that grew there very plentifully ; and in the 
centre of the dell, sure enough, a little tent of goat- 
skins, like Avhat the gipsies carry about with them in 
England. 

I dropped into the hollow, lifted the side of the tent, 
and there was Ben Gunn's boat — home-made if ever 
anything was home-made : a rude, lop-sided framework 
of tough wood, and stretched upon that a covering of 
goat-skin, with the hair inside. The thing was ex- 
tremely small, even for me, and I could hardly imagine 
that it could have floated with a full-sized man. There 
was one thwart set as low as possible, a kind of stretcher 
in the bows, and a double paddle for propulsion. 

I had not then seen a coracle, such as the ancient 
Britons made, but I have seen one since, and I can give 
you no fairer idea of Ben Gunn’s boat than by saying 
it was like the first and the worst coracle ever made 
by man. But the great advantage of the coracle it 
certainly possessed, for it was exceedingly light and 
portable. 

Well, now that I had found the boat, you would 
have thought I had had enough of truantry for once ; 
but, in the meantime, I had taken another notion, and 
become so obstinately fond of it, that I would have 


180 


TREASURE ISLAND 


carried it out, I believe, in the teeth of Captain Smollett 
himself. This was to slip out under cover of the night, 
cut the Hispaniola adrift, and let her go ashore where 
she fancied. I had quite made up my mind that the 
mutineers, after their repulse of the morning, had noth- 
ing nearer their hearts than to up anchor and away to 
sea ; this, I thought, it would be a fine thing to prevent ; 
and now that I had seen how they left their watchmen 
unprovided with a boat, I thought it might be done 
with little risk. 

Down I sat to wait for darkness, and made a hearty 
meal of biscuit. It was a night out of ten thousand for 
my purpose. The fog had now buried all heaven. As 
the last rays of dayliglit dwindled and disappeared, 
absolute blackness settled down on Treasure Island. 
And when, at last, I shouldered the coracle, and groped 
my A/ay stumblingly out of the hollow where I had 
supped, there were but two points visible on the whole 
anchorage. 

One was the great fire on shore, by which the 
defeated pirates lay carousing in the swamp. The 
other, a mere blur of light upon the darkness, indicated 
the position of the anchored ship. She had swung 
round to the ebb — her bow was now towards me — the 
only lights on board were in the cabin ; and what I 
saw was merely a refiection on the fog of the strong 
lays that fiowed from the stern window. 

The ebb had already run some time, and I had to 


HOW I BEGAN MY SEA ADVENTURE 


181 


wade through a long belt of swampy sand, where I 
sank several times above the ankle, before I came to 
the edge of the retreating water, and wading a little 
way in, with some strength and dexterity, set my 
coracle, keel downwards, on the surface. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


THE EBB-TIDE RUNS 

The coracle — as I had ample reason to know before I 
was done with her — was a very safe boat for a person of 
my height and weight, both buoyant and clever in a 
seaway ; but she was the most cross-grained, lop-sided 
craft to manage. Do as you pleased, she always made 
more leeway than anything else, and turning round and 
round was the manoeuvre she was best at. Even Ben 
Gunn himself has admitted that she was queer to 
handle till you knew her way.” 

Certainly I did not know her way. She turned in 
every direction but the one I was bound to go ; the most 
part of the time we were broadside on, and I am very 
sure I never should have made the ship at all but for 
the tide. By good fortune, paddle as I pleased, the tide 
was still sweeping me down ; and there lay the Hispan- 
iola right in the fair way, hardly to be missed. 

First she loomed before me like a blot of something 
yet blacker than darkness, then her spars and hull began 
to take shape, and the next moment, as it seemed (for, 
the further I went, the brisker grew the current of the 
ebb), I was alongside of her hawser, and had laid hold. 


THE EBB-TIDE RUNS 


IS'6 


The hawser was as taut as a bowstring — so strong, 
she pulled upon her anchor. All round the hull, in 
the blackness, the rippling current bubbled and chat- 
tered like a little mountain stream. One cut with my 
sea-gully, and the Hispaniola would go humming down 
the tide. 

So far so good ; but it next occurred to my recollec- 
tion that a taut hawser, suddenly cut, is a thing as 
dangerous as a kicking horse. Ten to one, if I were 
so foolhardy as to cut the Hispaniola from her anchor, 
I and the coracle would be knocked clean out of the 
water. 

This brought me to a full stop, and if fortune had not 
again particularly favoured me, I should have had to 
abandon my design. But the light airs which had 
begun blowing from the south-east and south had 
hauled round after nightfall into the south-west. Just 
while I was meditating, a puff came, caught the His- 
paniola, and forced her up into the current ; and to my 
great joy, I felt the hawser slacken in my grasp, and the 
hand by which I held it dip for a second under water. 

With that I made my mind up, took out my gully, 
opened it with my teeth, and cut one strand after 
another, till the vessel only swung by two. Then I 
lay quiet, waiting to sever these last when the strain 
should be once more lightened by a breath of wind. 

All this time I had heard the sound of loud voices 
from the cabin : but, to say truth, my mind had been 


184 


TREASURE ISLAND 


80 entirely taken up with other thoughts that I had 
Bcarcely given ear. Now, however, when I had nothing 
else to do, I began to pay more heed. 

One I recognised for the coxswain^s, Israel Hands, 
that had been Flint’s gunner in former days. The 
other was, of course, my friend of the red night-cap. 
Both men were plainly the worse of drink, and they 
were still drinking ; for, even while I was listening, one 
of them, with a drunken cry, opened the stern window 
and threw out something, which I divined to be an 
empty bottle. But they were not only tipsy ; it was 
plain that they were furiously angry. Oaths flew like 
hailstones, and every now and then there came forth 
such an explosion as I thought was sure to end in blows. 
But each time the quarrel passed off, and the voices 
grumbled lower for a while, until the next crisis came, 
and, in its turn, passed away without result. 

On shore, I could see the glow of the great camp Are 
burning warmly through the shore-side trees. Someone 
was singing, a dull, old, droning sailor’s song, with a 
droop and a quaver at the end of every verse, and seem- 
ingly no end to it at all but the patience of the singer. 
I had heard it on the voyage more than once, and 
remembered these words : — 

“ But one man of her crew alive, 

What put to sea with seventy-five.’' 

And I thought it was a ditty rather too dolefully appro- 


THE EBB-TIDE RUNS 


185 


priate for a company that had met such cruel losses in 
the morning. But, indeed, from what I saw, all these 
buccaneers were as callous as the sea they sailed on. 

At last the breeze came ; the schooner sidled and 
drew nearer in the dark ; I felt the hawser slacken 
once more, and with a good, tough effort, cut the last 
fibres through. 

The breeze had but little action on the coracle, and 
I was almost instantly swept against the bows of the 
Hispaniola. At the same time the schooner began to 
turn upon her heel, spinning slowly, end for end, across 
the current. 

I wrought like a fiend, for I expected every moment 
to be swamped ; and since I found I could not push 
the coracle directly off, I now shoved straight astern. 
At length I was clear of my dangerous neighbour ; and 
just as I gave the last impulsion, my hands came across 
a light cord that was trailing overboard across the stern 
bulwarks. Instantly I grasped it. 

Why I should have done so I can hardly say. It 
was at first mere instinct ; but once I had it in my 
hands and found it fast, curiosity began to get the 
upper hand, and I determined I should have one look 
through the cabin window. 

I pulled in hand over hand on the cord, and, when 
I judged myself near enough, rose at infinite risk to 
about half my height, and thus commanded the roof 
and a slice of the interior of the cabin. 


186 


TREASURE ISLAND 


By this time the schooner und her little consort 
were gliding pretty swiftly through the water ; indeed, 
we had already fetched up level with the camp fire. 
The ship was talking, as sailors say, loudly, treading 
the innumerable ripples with an incessant welteriug 
splash ; and until I got my eye above the window-sill 
I could not comprehend why the watchmen had taken 
no alarm. One glance, however, Avas sufficient ; and 
it was only one glance that I durst take from that un- 
steady skill. It showed me Hands and his companior 
locked together in deadly Avrestle, each with a hand 
upon the other’s throat. 

I dropped upon the thwart again, none too soon 
for I was near overboard. I could see nothing foi 
the moment but these two furious, encrimsoned faces, 
swaying together under the smoky lamp ; and I shut 
my eyes to let them grow once more familiar with the 
darkness. 

The endless ballad had come to an end at last, and 
the whole diminished company about the camp fire 
had broken into the chorus I had heard so often : — 

“Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest— 

Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum! 

Drink and the devil had done for the rest— 
Y'o-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum ! ” 

I was just thinking how busy drink and the devil 
were at that very moment in the cabin of the HispaU' 


THE EBB-TIDE RUNS 


187 


iola, when 1 was surprised by a sudden lurch of the 
coracle. At the same moment she yawed sliarply and 
seemed to change her course. The speed \xi the mean- 
time had strangely increased. 

I opened my eyes at once. All round me were little 
ripples, combing over with a sharp, bristling sound and 
slightly phosphorescent. The Hupaniola herself, a few 
yards in whose wake I was still being whirled along, 
seemed to stagger in her course, and 1 saw her spars 
toss a little against the blackness of the night ; nay, as I 
looked longer, I made sure she also was wheeling to the 
southward. 

I glanced over my shoulder, and my heart jumped 
against my ribs. There, right behind me, was the glow 
of the camp fire. The current had turned at right 
angles, sweeping round along with it the tall schooner 
and the little dancing coracle ; ever quickening, ever 
bubbling higher, ever muttering louder, it went spin- 
ning through the narrows for the open sea. 

Suddenly the schooner in front of me gave a violent 
yaw, turning, perhaps, through twenty degrees ; and 
almost at the same moment one shout followed another 
from on board ; I could hear feet pounding on the com- 
panion ladder ; and I knew that the two drunkards had 
at last been interrupted in their quarrel and awakened 
to a sense of their disaster. 

I lay down flat in the bottom of that wretched skiff, 
and devoutly recommended my spirit to its Maker. At 


188 


TREASURE ISLAND 


the end of the straits, I made sure we must fall into 
some bar of raging breakers, where all my troubles 
would be ended speedily ; and though I could, perhaps, 
bear to die, I could not bear to look upon my fate as it 
approached. 

So I must have lain for hours, continually beaten to 
and fro upon the billows, now and again wetted with 
flying sprays, and never ceasing to expect death at the 
next plunge. Gradually weariness grew upon me ; a 
numbness, an occasional stupor, fell upon my mind even 
in the midst of my terrors ; until sleep at last super- 
vened, and in my sea-tossed coracle I lay and dreamed 
of home and the old “ Admiral Benbow.*^ 


CHAPTER XXIV 


THE CRUISE OF THE CORACLE 

It was broad day when I awoke, and found myself 
tossing at the south-west end of Treasure Island. The 
sun was up, but was still hid from me behind the great 
bulk of the Spy-glass, which on this side descended 
almost to the sea in formidable cliffs. 

Haulbowline Head and Mizzen-mast Hill were at my 
elbow ; the hill bare and dark, the head bound with 
cliffs forty or fifty feet high, and fringed with great 
masses of fallen rock. I was scarce a quarter of a mile 
to seaward, and it was my first thought to paddle in and 
land. 

That notion was soon given over. Among the fallen 
rocks the breakers spouted and bellowed ; loud rever- 
berations, heavy sprays flying and falling, succeeded one 
another from second to second ; and I saw myself, if I 
ventured nearer, dashed to death upon the rough shore, 
or spending my strength in vain to scale the beetling 
crags. 

Nor was that all; for crawling together on flat tables of 
rock, or letting themselves drop into the sea with loud 
reports, I beheld huge slimy monsters — soft snails, as it 


190 


TKEASUKE ISLAND 


were, of incredible bigness — two or three score of them 
together, making the rocks to echo with their barkings. 

I have understood since that they were sea-lions, and 
entirely harmless. But the look of them, added to the 
difficulty of the shore and the high running of the surf, 
was more than enough to disgust me of that landing- 
place. I felt willing rather to starve at sea than to con- 
front such perils. 

In the meantime I had a better chance, as I supposed, 
before me. North of Haulbowline Head, the land runs 
in a long way, leaving, at low tide, a long stretch of 
yellow sand. To the north of that, again, there comes 
another cape — Cape of the Woods, as it was marked 
upon the chart — buried in tall green pines, which 
descended to the margin of the sea. 

I remembered what Silver had said about the current 
that sets northward along the whole w'est coast of 
Treasure Island ; and seeing from my position that I was 
already under its influetice, I preferred to leave Haul- 
bowline Head behind me, and reserve my strength for 
an attempt to land upon the kindlier-lookiug Cape of 
the Woods. 

There was a great, smooth swell upon the sea. The 
wind blowing steady and gentle from the south, there 
was no contrariety between that and the current, and 
the billows rose and fell unbroken. 

Had it been otherwise, I must long ago have perished ; 
but as it was, it is surprising how easily and securely my 


THE CRUISE OF THE CORACLE 


191 


little and light boat could ride. Often, as I still lay at 
the bottom, and kept no more than an eye above the 
gunwale, I w’ould see a big blue summit heaving close 
above me ; yet the coracle would but bounce a little, 
dance as if on springs, and subside on the other side 
into the trough as lightly as a bird. 

I began after a little to grow very bold, and sat up 
to try my skill at paddling. But even a small change 
in the disposition of the weight will produce violent 
changes in the behaviour of a coracle. And I had 
hardly moved before the bop.t, giving up at once her 
gentle dancing movement, ran straight down a slope of 
water so steep that it made me giddy, and struck her 
nose, with a spout of spray, deep into the side of the 
next wave. 

I was drenched and terrified, and fell instantly back 
into my old position, whereupon the coracle seemed to 
find her head again, and led me as softly as before 
among the billows. It was plain she was not to be 
interfered with, and at that rate, since 1 could in no 
way influence her course, what hope had I left of reach- 
ing land ? 

I began to be horribly frightened, but I kept my 
head, for all that. First, moving with all care, I 
gradually baled out the coracle with my sea-cap ; then 
getting my eye once more above the gunwale, I set 
myself to study how it was she managed to slip so 
quietly through the rollers, 


192 


TREASURE ISLAND 


I found each wave, instead of the big, smooth, glossy 
mountain it looks from shore, or from a vessers deck, 
was for all the world like any range of hills on the 
dry land, full of peaks and smooth places and valleys. 
The coracle, left to herself, turning from side to side, 
threaded, so to speak, her way through these lower 
parts, and avoided the steep slopes and higher, toppling 
summits of the wave. 

Well, now,” thought I to myself, “ \i is plain I 
must lie where I am, and not disturb the balance ; but 
it is plain, also, that I can put the paddle over the side, 
and from time to time, in smooth places, give her a 
shove or two towards land.” No sooner thought upon 
than done. There I lay on my elbows, in the most 
trying attitude, and every now and again gave a weak 
stroke or two to turn her head to shore. 

It was very tiring, and slow work, yet I did visibly 
gain ground ; and, as we drew near the Cape of the 
Woods, though I saw I must infallibly miss that point, 
I had still made some hundred yards of easting. I was, 
indeed, close in. I could see the cool, green tree-tops 
swaying together in the breeze, and I felt sure I should 
make the next promontory without fail. 

It was high time, for I now began to be tortured with 
thirst. The glow of the sun from above, its thou- 
sandfold reflection from the waves, the sea-water that 
fell and dried upon me, caking my very lips with salt, 
combined to make my throat burn and my brain ache. 


THE CRUISE OF THE CORACLE 


193 


The sight of the trees so near at hand had almost made 
me sick with longing ; but the current had soon carried 
me past the point ; and, as the next reach of sea opened 
out, I beheld a sight that changed the nature of my 
thoughts. 

Right in front of me, not half a mile away, I beheld 
the Hispaniola under sail. I made sure, of course, 
that I should be taken ; but I was so distressed for want 
of water, that I scarce knew whether to be glad or sorry 
at the thought ; and, long before I had come to a con- 
clusion, surprise had taken entire possession of my 
mind, and I could do nothing but stare and wonder. 

The Hispaniola was under her main-sail and two 
jibs, and the beautiful white canvas shone in the sun 
like snow or silver. When I first sighted her, all her 
sails were drawing ; she was lying a course about north- 
west ; and I presumed the men on board were going 
round the island on their way back to the anchorage. 
Presently she began to fetch more and more to the 
westward, so that I thought they had sighted me and 
were going about in chase. At last, however, she fell 
right into the wind’s eye, was taken dead aback, and 
stood there a while helpless, with her sails shivering. 

“ Clumsy fellows,” said I ; “ they must still be drunk 
as owls.” And I thought how Captain Smollett would 
have set them skipping. 

Meanwhile, the schooner gradually fell off, and filled 
again upon another tack, sailed svvdftly for a minute or 
13 


194 


TREASURE ISLAJSID 


BO, and brought up once more dead in the wind^s eye. 
Again and again was this repeated. To and fro, up 
and down, north, south, east, and west, the Hispaniola 
sailed by swoops and dashes, and at each repetition 
ended as she had begun, with idly-flapping canvas. It 
became plain to me that nobody was steering. And, if 
so, where were the men ? Either they were dead drunk, 
or had deserted her, I thought, and perhaps if I could 
get on board, I might return the vessel to her captain. 

The current was bearing coracle and schooner south- 
ward at an equal rate. As for the latter^s sailing, it was 
so wild and intermittent, and she hung each time so 
long in irons, that she certainly gained nothing, if she 
did not even lose. If only I dared to sit up and paddle, 
I made sure that I could overhaul her. The scheme 
had an air of adventure that inspired me, and the 
thought of the water breaker beside the fore companion 
doubled my growing courage. 

Up I got, was welcomed almost instantly by another 
cloud of spray, but this time stuck to my purpose ; and 
set myself, with all my strength and caution, to paddle 
after the unsteered Hispaniola. Once I shipped a sea 
BO heavy that I had to stop and bale, with my heart 
fluttering like a bird ; but gradually I got into the way 
of the thing, and guided my coracle among the waves, 
with only now and then a blow upon her bows and a 
dash of foam in my face. 

\ was now gaining rapidly on the schooner ; I could 


THE CRUISE OF THE CORACLE 


195 


see the brass glisten on the tiller as it banged about ; 
and still no soul appeared upon her decks. I could not 
choose but suppose she was deserted. If not, the men 
were lying drunk below, where I might batten them 
down, perhaps, and do what I chose with the ship. 

For some time she had been doing the worst thing 
possible for me— standing still. She headed nearly due 
south, yawing, of course, all the time. Each time she 
fell off her sails partly filled, and these brought her, in a 
moment, right to the wind again. I have said this was 
the worst thing possible for me ; for helpless as she 
looked in this situation, with the canvas cracking like 
cannon, and the blocks trundling and banging on tbe 
deck, she still continued to run away from me, not only 
with the speed of the current, but by the whole amount 
of her leeway, which was naturally great. 

But now, at last, I had my chance. The breeze fell, 
for some seconds, very low, and the current gradually 
turning her, the Hispaniola revolved slowly round her 
centre, and at last presented me her stern, with the 
cabin window still gaping open, and the lamp over the 
table still burning on into the day. The main-sail hung 
drooped like a banner. She was stock-still, but for the 
current. 

For the last little while I had even lost ; but now 
redoubling my efforts, I began once more to overhaul 
the chase. 

I was not a hundred yards from her when the wind 


196 


TREASURE ISLAND 


came again in a clap ; she filled on the port tack, and 
was off again, stooping and skimming like a swallow. 

My first impulse was one of despair, but my second 
was towards joy. Round she came, till she was broad- 
side on to me — round still till she had covered a half, 
and then two-thirds, and then three-quarters of the dis- 
tance that separated us. I could see the waves boiling 
white under her forefoot. Immensely tall she looked 
to me from my low station in the coracle. 

And then, of a sudden, I began to comprehend. I 
had scarce time to think — scarce time to act and save 
myself. I was on the summit of one swell when the 
schooner came stooping over the next. The bowsprit 
was over my head. I sprang to my feet, and leaped, 
stamping the coracle under water. With one hand I 
caught the jib-boom, while my foot was lodged between 
the stay and the brace ; and as I still clung there pant- 
ing, a dull blow told me that the schooner had charged 
down upon and struck the coracle, and that I was left 
without retreat on the Hispaniola. 


CHAPTER XXV 


I STRIKE THE JOLLY ROGER 

I HAD scarce gained a position on the bowsprit, when 
the flying jib flapped and filled upon the other tack, 
with a report like a gun. The schooner trembled to liei 
keel under the reverse ; but next moment, the other saih- 
still drawing, the jib flapped back agfain. and hung idle. 

This had nearly tossed me off into the sea ; and now 
I lost no time, crawled back along the bowsprit, and 
tumbled head foremost on the deck. 

I was on the lee side of the forecastle, and the main- 
sail, which was still drawing, concealed from me a cer- 
tain portion of the after-deck. Not a soul was to be 
seen. The planks, which had not been sw'abbed since 
the mutiny, bore the print of many feet ; and an empty 
bottle, broken by the neck, tumbled to and fro like if 
live thing in the scuppers. 

Suddenly the Hispaniola came right into the wind. 
The jibs behind me cracked aloud ; the rudder slammed 
to ; the whole ship gave a sickening heave and shudder, 
and at the same moment the main-boom swung inboard, 
the sheet groaning in the blocks, and showed me the 
lee after-deck. 


198 


TREASURE ISLAJSTD 


There were the two watchmen, sure enough: red-cap on 
his back, as stiff as a handspike, with his arms stretched 
out like those of a crucifix, and his teeth showing 
through his open lips ; Israel Hands propped against 
the bulwarks, his chin on his chest, his hands lying 
open before him on the deck, his face as white, under 
its tan, as a tallow candle. 

For a while the ship kept bucking and sidling like a 
vicious horse, the sails filling, now on one tack, now on 
another, and the boom swinging to and fro till the mast 
groaned aloud under the strain. Now and again, too, 
there would come a cloud of light sprays over the 
bulwark, and a heavy blow of the ship^s bows against 
the swell : so much heavier weather was made of it by 
this great rigged ship than by my home-made lop-sided 
coracle, now gone to the bottom of the sea. 

At every jump of the schooner, red-cap slipped to and 
fro ; but — what was ghastly to behold — neither his atti- 
tude nor his fixed teeth-disclosing grin was anyway dis- 
turbed by this rough usage. At every jump, too. Hands 
appeared still more to sink into himself and settle down 
upon the deck, his feet sliding ever the farther out, and 
the whole body canting towards the stern, so that his 
face became, little by little, hid from me ; and at last I 
could see nothing beyond his ear and the frayed ringlet 
'of one whisker. 

At the same time, I observed, around both of them, 
splashes of dark blood upon the planks, and began to 


y STRIKE THE JOLLY ROGER 


199 


feel sure that they had killed each other in their 
drunken wrath. 

While I was thus looking and wondering, in a calm 
moment, when the ship was still, Israel Hands turned 
partly round, and, with a low moan, writhed himself 
back to the position in which I had seen him first. 
The moan, which told of pain and deadly weakness, 
and the way in which his jaw hung open, went right to 
my heart. But when I remembered the talk I had 
overheard from the apple barrel, all pity left me. 

I walked aft until I reached the main-mast. 

“ Come aboard, Mr. Hands,” I said ironically. 

He rolled his eyes round heavily ; but he was too far 
gone to express surprise. All he could do was to utter 
one word, Brandy.” 

It occurred to me there was no time to lose ; and, 
dodging the boom as it once more lurched across the 
deck, I slipped aft, and down the companion-stairs into 
the cabin. 

It was such a scene of confusion as you can hardly 
fancy. All the lockfast places had been broken open 
in quest of the chart. The floor was thick with mud, 
where ruffians had sat down to drink or consult after 
wading in the marshes round their camp. '^I'he bulk- 
heads, all painted in clear white, and beaded round with 
gilt, bore a pattern of dirty hands. Dozens of empty 
bottles clinked together in comers to the rolling of the 
ship. One of the doctor's medical books lay open on 


200 


TREASUJiJii xbLAND 


the table, half of the leaves gutted out, I suppose, for 
pipelights. In the midst of all this the lamp still cast 
a smoky glow, obscure and brown as umber. 

I went into the cellar ; all the barrels were gone, and 
of the bottles a most surprising number had been drunk 
out and thrown away. Certainly, since the mutiny 
began, not a man of them could ever have been sober. 

Foraging about, I found a bottle with some brandy 
left, for Hands ; and for myself I routed out some 
biscuit, some pickled fruits, a great bunch of raisins, 
and a piece of cheese. With these I came on deck, put 
down my own stock behind the rudder-head, and well 
out of the coxswain’s reach, went forward to the water- 
breaker, and had a good, deep drink of water, and then, 
and not till then, gave Hands the brandy. 

He must have drunk a gill before he took the bottle 
from his mouth. 

Aye,” said he, “ by thunder, but I wanted some o’ 
that ! ” 

I had sat down already in my own corner and begun 
to eat. 

Much hurt ? ” I asked him. 

He grunted, or, rather, I might say, he barked. 

‘^If that doctor was aboard,” he said, I’d be right 
enough in a couple of turns ; but I don’t have no man- 
ner of luck, you see, and that’s what’s the matter with 
me. As for that swab, he’s good and dead, he is,” he 
added, indicating the man with the red can- He 


I STRIKE THE JOLLY ROGER 


201 


warn’t no seaman, anyhow. And where mought you 
have come from ? ” 

Well,^’ said I, “ Tve come aboard to take } 30 sses 8 ion 
of this ship, Mr. Hands ; and you’ll please regard me as 
your captain until further notice.” 

He looked at me sourly enough, but said nothing. 
Some of the colour had come back into his cheeks, 
though he still looked very sick, and still continued to 
slip out and settle down as the ship banged about, 

“ By the bye,” I continued, “ I can’t have these 
colours, Mr. Hands ; and, by your leave. I’ll strike ’em. 
Better none than these.” 

And, again dodging the boom, I ran to the colour 
lines, handed down their cursed black flag, and chucked 
it overboard. 

God save the king ! ” said I, waving my cap ; ‘'and 
chere’s an end to Captain Silver ! ” 

He watched me keenly and slyly, his chin all the 
while on his breast. 

“ I reckon,” he said at last — “ I reckon, Cap’n Haw- 
kins, you’ll kind of want to get ashore, now. S’pose we 
talks.” 

“ Why, yes,” says I, “ with all my heart, Mr. Hands. 
Say on.” And I went back to my meal with a good 
appetite. 

“ This man,” he began, nodding feebly at the corpse — 
“ O’Brien were his name — a rank Irelander — this man 
and me got the canvas on her, meaning for to sail her 


202 


TREASURE ISLAND 


buck. Well, he’s dead now, he is — as dead as bilge ; 
and who's to sail this ship, 1 don’t see. Without I gives 
you a hint, you ain’t that man, as far’s I can tell. 
Now, look here, you gives me food and drink, and a old 
scarf or ankccher to tie my wound up, you do ; and I’ll 
tell you how to sail her ; and that's about square all 
round, I take it.” 

“I’ll tell you one thing,” says I: “I’m not going 
back to Captain Kidd’s anchorage. I mean to get into 
North Inlet, and beach her quietly there.” 

To be sure you did,” he cried. “ Why, I ain’t sich 
an infernal lubber, after all. 1 can see, can’t I ? I’ve 
tried my fling, I have, and I’ve lost, and it’s you has the 
wind of me. North Inlet ? Why, I haven’t no ch’ice, 
not 1 ! I’d help you sail her up to Execution Dock, by 
thunder ! so I would.” 

Well, as it seemed to me, there was some sense in this 
We struck our bargain on the spot. In three minutes 1 
had the Hispaniola sailing easily before the wind along 
the coast of fl'reasure Island, with good hopes of turn* 
ing the northern point ere noon, and beating down 
again as far as North Inlet before high water, when 
we might beach her safely, and wait till the subsiding 
tide permitted us to land. 

Then I lashed the tiller and went below to my ov/n 
chest, where I got a soft silk handkerchief of my moth- 
er’s. With this, and with my aid. Hands bound up the 
great bleeding stab he had received in the thigh, and 


I STRIKE THE JOLLY ROGER 


203 


after he had eaten a little and had a swallow or two 
more of the brandy, he began to pick up visibly, sat 
straighter up, spoke louder and clearer, and looked in 
every way another man. 

The breeze served us admirably. We skimmed before 
it like a bird, the coast of the island flashing by, and 
the view changing every minute. Soon we were past 
the high lands and bowling beside low, sandy country, 
sparsely dotted with dwarf pines, and soon we were 
beyond that again, and had turned the corner of the 
rocky hill that ends the island on the north. 

I was greatly elated with rny new command, and 
pleased with the bright, sunshiny weather and these 
different prospects of the coast. I had now plenty of 
water and good things to eat, and my conscience, which 
had smitten me hard for my desertion, was quieted by 
the great conquest 1 had made. I should, I think, have 
had nothing left me to desire but for the eyes of the 
coxswain as they followed me derisively about the deck, 
and the odd smile that appeared continually on his face. 
It was a smile that had in it something both of pain and 
weakness — a haggard, old man’s smile ; but there was, 
besides that, a grain of derision, a shadow of treachery, 
in his expression as he craftily watched, and watched, 
and watched me at my work. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


ISRAEL HANDS 

The wind, serving us to a desire, now hauled into 
the west. We could run so much the easier from the 
north-east corner of the island to the mouth of the North 
Inlet. Only, as we had no power to anchor, and dared 
not beach her till the tide had flowed a good deal farther, 
time hung on our hands. The coxswain told me how 
to lay the ship to ; after a good many trials I succeeded, 
and we both sat in silence, over another meal. 

Cap’n,” said he, at length, with that same un- 
comfortable smile, “ here’s my old shipmate, O’Brien ; 
s’pose you was to heave him overboard. I ain’t partic’lar 
as a rule, and I don’t take no blame for settling his 
hash ; but I don’t reckon him ornamental, now, do 
you?” 

I’m not strong enough, and I don’t like the job ; 
and there he lies, for me,” said I. 

This here’s an unlucky ship — this Hispaniola, 
Jim,” he went on, blinking. There’s a power of men 
been killed in this Hispaniola — a sight o’ poor seamen 
d-ead and gone since you and me took ship to Bristol. 
I never seen sich dirty luck, not I. There was this here 


ISRAEL HANDS 


206 


O’Brien, now — he’s dead, ain’t he ? Well, now. I’m no 
scholar, and you’re a lad as can read and figure ; and 
to put it straight, do you take it as a dead man is 
dead for good, or do he come alive again ? ” 

** You can kill the body, Mr. Hands, but not the 
spirit ; you must know that already>” I replied. 

O’Brien there is in another world, and maybe watch- 
ing us.” 

“ Ah ! ” says he. Well, that’s unfort’nate — appears 
as if killing parties was a waste of time. Howsomever, 
sperrits don’t reckon for much, by what I’ve seen. I’ll 
chance it with the sperrits, Jim. And now, you’ve spoke 
up free, and I’ll take it kind if you’d step down into 
that there cabin and get me a — well, a — shiver my 
timbers ! I can’t hit the name on’t ; well, you get me 
a bottle of wine, Jim — this here brandy’s too strong for 
my head.” 

Now, the coxswain’s hesitation seemed to be un- 
natural ; and as for the notion of his preferring wine 
to brandy, I entirely disbelieved it. The whole story 
was a pretext. He wanted me to leave the deck — so 
much was plain ; but with what purpose I could in no 
way imagine. His eyes never met mine ; they kept 
wandering to and fro, up and down, now with a look 
to the sky, now with a fiitting glance upon the dead 
O’Brien. All the time he kept smiling, and putting 
his tongue out in the most guilty, embarrassed manner, 
so that a child could have told that he was bent on 


206 


TREASURE ISLAND 


some deception. I was prompt with my answer, how* 
ever, for I saw where my advantage lay ; and that with 
a fellow so densely stupid I could easily conceal my 
suspicions to the end. 

“ Some wine ? ” I said. “ Far better. Will you have 
white or red ? 

“ Well, I reckon it’s about the blessed same to me, 
shipmate,” he replied ; so it’s strong, and plenty of 
it, what’s the odds ? ” 

“ All right,” I answered. I’ll bring you port, Mr. 
Hands. But I’ll have to dig for it.” 

With that I scuttled down the companion with all 
the noise I could, slipped off my shoes, ran quietly 
along the sparred gallery, mounted the forecastle ladder, 
and popped my head out of the fore companion. 1 
knew he would not expect to see me there ; yet I took 
every precaution possible ; and certainly the worst of 
my suspicions proved too true. 

He had risen from his position to his hands and 
knees ; and, though his leg obviously hurt him pretty 
sharply when he moved — for 1 could hear him stifle 
a groan — yet it was at a good, rattling rate that he 
trailed himself across the deck. In half a minute he 
had reached the port scuppers, and picked, out of a 
coil of rope, a long knife, or rather a short dirk, dis- 
coloured to the hilt with blood. He looked upon it for 
a moment, thrusting forth his under jaw, tried the 
point upon his hand, and then, hastily concealing it in 


ISRAEL HANDS 


207 


the bosom of his jacket, trundled back again into his 
uld place against the bulwark. 

This was all that I required to know. Israel could 
move about ; he was now armed ; and if he had been 
at so much trouble to get rid of me, it was plain that 1 
was meant to bo the victim. What he would do after- 
wards — whether he would try to crawl right across the 
island from North Inlet to the camp among the swamps, 
or whether he would fire Tjong Tom, trusting that his 
own comrades might come first to help him, was, of 
course, more than I could say. 

Yet I felt sure that I could trust him in one point, 
since in that our interests jumped together, and that 
was in the disposition of the schooner. We both desired 
to have her stranded safe enough, in a sheltered place, 
and so that, when the time came, she could be got off 
again with as little labour and danger as might be ; and 
until that was done I considered that my life would 
certainly be spared. 

While I was thus turning the business over in my 
mind, I had not been idle with my body. I had stolen 
back to the cabin, slippea once more into my shoes, and 
laid my hand at random on a bottle of wine, and now, 
with this for an excuse, I made my re-appearance on the 
deck. 

Hands lay as I had left him, all fallen together in 
a bundle, and with his eyelids lowered, as though he 
were too weak to bear the light. He looked up, how- 


208 


TREASURE ISLAND 


ever, at my coming, knocked the neck off the bottle, 
like a man who had done the same thing often, and 
took a good swig, with his favourite toast of Here’s 
luck ! ” Then he lay quiet for a little, and then, pull- 
ing out a stick of tobacco, begged me to cut him a 
quid. 

“Cut me a junk o’ that,” says he, “fori haven’t 
no knife, and hardly strength enough, so be as 1 had. 
Ah, Jim, Jim, I reckon I've missed stays ! Cut me a 
quid, as ’ll likely be the last, lad ; for I’m for my long 
home, and no mistake.” 

“ Well,” said I, “ I’ll cut you some tobacco ; but if I 
was you and thought myself so badly, I w'ould go to my 
prayers, like a Christian m^n.” 

“Why ?” said he. Now, you tell me why.” 

“Why?” I cried. “You w'ere asking me just now 
about the dead. You’ve broken "'our trust ; you’ve 
lived in sin and lies and blood ; there’s a man you killed 
lying at your feet this moment ; and you ask me why ! 
For God’s mercy, Mr. Hands, that’s why.” 

I spoke with a little heat, thinking of the bloody 
dirk he had hidden in his pocket, and designed, in 
his ill thoughts, to end me with. He, for his part, 
took a great draught of the wine, and spoke with the 
most unusual solemnity. 

“For thirty years,” he said, “I’ve sailed the seas, 
and seen good and bad, better and worse, fair weather 
and foul, provisions running out, knives going, and 


ISRAEL HANDS 


209 


what not. Well, now I tell you, I never seen good 
come o’ goodness yet. Him as strikes first is my fancy ; 
dead men don’t bite ; them’s my views — amen, so be it. 
And now, you look here,” lie added, suddenly changing 
his tone, “ we’ve had about enough of this foolery. 
The tide’s made good enough by now. You just take 
my orders, Cap’n Hawkins, and we’ll sail slap in and 
be done with it.” 

All told, we had scarce two miles to run ; but the 
navigation was delicate, the entrance to this northern 
anchorage was not only narrow and shoal, but lay east 
and west, so that the schooner must be nicely handled 
to be got in. I think I was a good, prompt subaltern, 
and I am very sure that Hands was an excellent pilot ; 
for we .went about and about, and dodged in, shaving 
the banks, with a certainty and a neatness that were a 
pleasure to behold. 

Scarcely had we passed the heads before the land 
closed around us. The shores of North Inlet were as 
thickly wooded as those of the so.uthern anchorage ; but 
the space was longer and narrower, and more like, what 
in truth it was, the estuary of a river. Right before us, 
at the southern end we saw the wreck of a ship in the 
last stages of dilapidation. It had been a great vessel 
of three masts, but had lain so long exposed to the 
injuries of the weather, that it was hung about with 
great webs of dripping seaweed, and on the deck of it 

shore bushes had taken root, and now flourished thick 
14 


210 


TREASURE ISLAND 


with flowers. It was a sad sight, but it showed us thai: 
the anchorage was calm. 

“ Now,” said Hands, ‘‘ look there ; there^s a pet bit 
for to beach a ship in. Fine flat sand, never a cats- 
paw, trees all around of it, and flowers a-blowing like 
a garding on that old ship.” 

“ And once beached,” I inquired, “ how shall we 
get her off again ? ” 

Why, so,” he replied: “you take a line ashore 
there on the other side at low water : take a turn about 
one o’ them big pines ; bring it back, take a turn round 
the capstan, and lie-to for the tide. Come high water, 
all hands take a pull upon the line, and off she comes as 
sweet as natur’. And now, boy, you stand by. We’re 
near the bit now, and she’s too much way on her. 
Starboard a little — so — steady — starboard — larboard a 
little — steady — steady ! ” 

So he issued his commands, which I breathlessly 
obeyed ; till, all of a sudden, he cried, “ Now, my 
hearty, luff ! ” And I put the helm hard up, and the 
Hispaniola swung round rapidly, and ran stem on for 
the low wooded shore. 

The excitement of these last manoeuvres had some- 
what interfered with the watch I had kept hitherto, 
sharply enough, upon the coxswain. Even then I was 
still so much interested, waiting for the ship to touch, 
that I had quite forgot the peril that hung over my 
head, and stood craning over the starboard bulwarks 


ISRAEL B ANDS 


211 


and watching the ripples spreading wide before the 
bows. I might have fallen without a struggle for my 
life, had not a sudden disquietude seized upon me, 
and made me turn my head. Perhaps 1 had heard a 
creak, or seen his shadow moving with the tail of my 
eye ; perhaps it was an instinct like a cat’s ; but, sure 
enough, when I looked round, there was Hands, already 
half-way towards me, with the dirk in his right hand. 

We must both have cried out aloud when our eyes 
met ; but while mine was the shrill cry of terror, his 
was a roar of fury like a charging bull’s. At the same 
instant he threw himself forward, and I leapt sideways 
towards the bows. As I did so, I left hold of the tiller, 
which sprang sharp to leeward ; and I think this saved 
my life, for it struck Hands across the chest, and 
stopped him, for the moment, dead. 

Before he could recover, I was safe out of the cornei 
where he had me trapped, with all the deck to dodge 
about. Just forward of the main-mast I stopped, drew 
a pistol from my pocket, took a cool aim, though he had 
already turned and was once more coming directly after 
me, and drew the trigger. The hammer fell, but there 
followed neither flash nor sound ; the priming was use- 
less with sea water. I cursed myself for my neglect. 
Why had not I, long before, reprimed and reloaded my 
only weapons ? Then I should not have been, as now, 
a mere fleeing sheep before this butcher. 

Wounded as he was, it was wonderful how fast ha 


212 


TREASURE ISLAND 


could move, his grizzled hair tumbling over his face, and 
his face itself as red as a red ensign with his haste and 
fury. I had no time to try my other pistol, nor, indeed, 
much inclination, for 1 was sure it would be useless. 
One thing I saw plainly : I must not simply retreat 
before him, or he would speedily hold me boxed into 
the bows, as a moment since he had so nearly boxed me 
in the stern. Once so caught, and nine or ten inches 
of the blood-stained dirk would be my last experience 
on this side of eternity. I placed my palms against the 
main-mast, which was of a goodish bigness, and waited, 
every nerve upon the stretch. 

Seeing that I meant to dodge, he also paused ; and a 
moment or two passed in feints on his part, and corre- 
sponding movements upon mine. It was such a game 
as I had often played at home about the rocks of Black 
Hill Cove ; but never before, you may be sure, with 
such a wildly beating heart as now. Still, as I say, it 
Avas a boy’s game, and I thought I could hold jny own 
at it, against an elderly seaman with a wounded thigh. 
Indeed, my courage had begun to rise so high, that I 
allowed myself a few darting thoughts on what would 
be the end of the affair ; and while I saw certainly that 
I could spin it out for long, I saw no hope of any 
ultimate escape. 

Well, while things stood thus, suddenly the His- 
paniola struck, staggered, ground for an instant in 
the sand, and then, swift as a blow, canted over to the 


ISRAEL HANDS 


213 


port side, till the deck stood at an angle of forty-five 
degi’ees, and about a puncheon of water splashed into 
the scupper holes, and lay, in a pool, between the deck 
and bulwark. 

We were both of us capsized in a second, and both of 
us rolled, almost together, into the scuppers ; the dead 
red-cap, with his arms still spread out, tumbling stiffly 
after us. So near were we, indeed, that my head came 
against the coxswain^’s foot with a crack that made my 
teeth rattle. Blow and all, I was the first afoot again ; 
for Hands had got involved with the dead body. The 
sudden canting of the ship had made the deck no place 
for running on ; I had to find some new way of escape, 
and that upon the instant, for my foe was almost touch- 
ing me. Quick as thought I sprang into the mizzen 
shrouds, rattled up hand over hand, and did not draw a 
breath till I was seated on the cross-trees. 

I had been saved by being prompt ; the dirk had 
struck not half a foot below me, as I pursued my upward 
flight ; and there stood Israel Hands with his mouth 
open and his face upturned to mine, a perfect statue of 
surprise and disappointment. 

Now that I had a moment to myself, I lost no time in 
changing the priming of my pistol, and then, having 
one ready for service, and to make assurance doubly 
sure, I proceeded to draw the load of the other, and re- 
charge it afresh from the beginning. 

My new employment struck Hands all of a heap ; he 


214 


TREASUEE ISLAND 


began to see the dice going against him ; and after an 
obvious hesitation, he also hauled himself heavily into 
the shrouds, and, with the dirk in his teeth, began 
slowly and painfully to mount. It cost him no end of 
time and groans to haul his wounded leg behind him ; 
and I had quietly finished my arrangements before he 
was much more than a third of the way up. Then, with 
a pistol in either hand, I addressed him. 

“ One more step, Mr. Hands,” said I, and I’ll blow 
your brains out ! Dead men don’t bite, you know,” I 
added, with a chuckle. 

He stopped instantly. I could see by the working of 
his face that he was trying to think, and the process 
was so slow and laborious that, in my new-found secur- 
ity, I laughed aloud. At last, with a swallow or two, 
he spoke, his face still wearing the same expression of 
extreme perplexity. In order to speak he had to take 
the dagger from his mouth, but, in all else, he remained 
unmoved. 

^^Jim,” says he, I reckon weTe fouled, you and 
me, and we’ll have to sign articles. I’d have had you 
but for that there lurch : but I don’t have no luck, not 
I ; and I reckon I’ll have to strike, which comes hard, 
you see, for a master mariner to a ship’s younker like 
you, Jim.” 

I was drinking in his words, and smiling away, as 
conceited as a cock u})on a wall, when, all in a breath, 
back went bis riglit hand over his shoulder. Something 


ISRAEL HANDS 


215 


sang like an arroAV through the air : 1 felt a blow and 
then a sharp pang, and there I was pinned by the 
shoulder to the mast. In the horrid pain and surprise 
of the moment — I scarce can say it was by my own 
volition, and I am sure it was without a conscious aim — 
both my pistols went off, and both escaped out of my 
hands. They did not fall alone ; with a choked cry, the 
coxswain loosed his grasp upon the shrouds, and plunged 
lead first into the water. 


CHAPTER XXVIl 

PIECES OF EIGHT ” 

Owing to the cant of the vessel, the masts hung far 
out over the water, shid from my perch on the cross- 
trees I had nothing below me but the surface of the bay. 
Hands, who was not so far up, was, in consequence, 
nearer to the ship, and fell between me and the bul- 
warks. He rose once to the surface in a lather of foam 
and blood, and then sank again for good. As the water 
settled, I could see him lying huddled together on the 
clean, bright sand in the shadow of the vessePs sides. 
A fish or two whipped past his body. Sometimes, by 
the quivering of the water, he appeared to move a little, 
as if he were trying to rise. But he Avas dead enough, 
for all that, being both shot and droAvned, and was food 
for fish in the very place Avhere he had designed my 
slaughter. 

I was no sooner certain of this than I began to feel 
sick, faint, and terrified. Tiie hot blood Avas running 
over my back and chest. The dirk, where it had 
pinned my shoulder to the mast, seemed to burn like 
a hot iron ; yet it was not so much these real suffer- 
ings that distressed me, for these, it seemed to me, I 


PIECES OF EIGHT 


217 


<{ 


could bear without a murmur ; it was the horror I had 
upon my mind of falling from the cross-trees into that 
still green water, beside the body of the coxswain. 

I clung with both hands till my nails ached, and I shut 
my eyes as if to cover up the peril. Gradually my mind 
came back again, my pulses quieted down to a more nat- 
ural time, and I was once more in possession of myself. 

It was my first thought to pluck forth the dirk ; but 
either it stuck too hard or my nerve failed me ; and I 
desisted with a violent shudder. Oddly enough, that’ 
very shudder did the business. The knife, in fact, had 
come the nearest in the world to missing me altogether ; 
it held me by a mere pinch of skin, and this the shud- 
der tore away. The blood ran down the faster, to be 
sure ; but I was my own master again, and only tacked 
to the mast by my coat and shirt. 

These last 1 broke through with a sudden jerk, and 
then regained the deck by the starboard shrouds. For 
nothing in the world would I have again ventured, 
shaken as I was, upon the overhanging port shrouds, 
from which Israel had, so lately fallen. 

I went below, and did what I could for my wound; 
it pained me a good deal, and still bled freely ; but it 
was neither deep nor dangerous, nor did it greatly gall 
me when I used my arm. Then I looked around me, 
and as the ship was now, in a sense, my own, I began 
to think of clearing it from its last passenger— the dead 
man, O’Brien. 


218 


TREASURE ISLAND 


He had pitched, as I have said, against the bulwarks, 
where he lay like some horrible, ungainly sort of pup- 
pet ; life-size, indeed, but how different from life’s 
colour or life’s comeliness I In that position, I could 
easily have my way with him ; and as the habit of tragi- 
cal adventures had worn off almost all my terror for the 
dead, I took him by the waist as if he had been a sack 
of bran, and, with one good heave, tumbled him over- 
board. He went in with a sounding plunge ; the red 
cap came off, and remained floating on the surface ; and 
as soon as the splash subsided, I could see him and Israel 
lying side by side, both wavering with the tremulous 
movement of the water. O’Brien, though still quite a 
young man, was very bald. There he lay, with that bald 
head across the knees of the man who had killed him, 
and the quick fishes steering to and fro over both. 

I was now alone upon the ship ; the tide had just 
turned. The sun was within so few degrees of setting 
that already tho shadow of the pines upon the western 
shore began tc reach right across the anchorage, and 
fall in patterns on the deck. The evening breeze had 
sprung up, and though it was well warded off by the 
hill with the *wo peaks upon the east, the cordage had 
begun to sing a little softly to itself and the idle sails 
to rattle to and fro. 

I began to see a danger to the ship. The jibs I 
speedily doused and brought tumbling to the deck ; but 
>he main-sail w>'6 a harder matter. Of course, when the 


“PIECES OF EIGHT 


219 


schooner canted over, the boom had swung out-board, 
and the cap of it and a foot or two of sail hung even 
under water. I thought this made it still more danger- 
ous ; yet the strain was so lieavy that I half feared to 
meddle. At last, 1 got my knife and cut the halyards. 
The peak dropped instantly, a great belly of loose canvas 
floated broad upon the water ; and since, pull as I liked, 
I could not budge the downhaul, that was the extent of 
what I could accomplish. For the rest, the Hispaniola 
must trust to luck, like myself. 

By this time the whole anchorage had fallen into 
shadow — the last rays, I remember, falling through a 
glade of the wood, and shining bright as jewels, on the 
flowery mantle of the wreck. It began to be chill ; the 
tide was rapidly fleeting seaward, the schooner settling 
more and more on her beam-ends. 

I scrambled forward and looked over. It seemed 
shallow enough, and holding the cut hawser in both 
hands for a last security, I let myself drop softly over- 
board. The water scarcely reached my waist ; the sand 
was firm and covered with ripple marks, and I waded 
ashore in great spirits, leaving the Hispaniola on her 
side, with her main-sail trailing wide upon the surface 
of the bay. About the same time the sun went fairly 
down, and the breeze whistled low in the dusk among 
the tossing pines. 

At least, and at last, I was off the sea, ncr had I 
returned thence empty-handed. Thei e lay the schooner, 


220 


TBEASURE ISLAND 


clear at last from buccaneers and ready for our own men 
to board and get to sea again. I had nothing nearer my 
fancy than to get home to the stockade and boast of my 
achievements. Possibly I might be blamed a bit for 
my truantry, but the recapture of the Hispaniola was a 
clenching answer, and I hoped that even Captain Smoh 
iett would confess I had not lost my time. 

So thinking, and in famous spirits, I began to set my 
face homeward for the block-house and my companions. 
I remembered that the most easterly of the rivers which 
drain into Captain Kidd’s anchorage ran from the two- 
peaked hill upon my left ; and I bent my course in that 
direction that I might pass the stream while it was 
small. The w,ood was pretty open, and keeping along 
the lower spurs, I had soon turned the corner of that 
hill, and not long after waded to the mid-calf across the 
water-course. 

This brought me near to where I had encountered 
Ben Gunn, the maroon ; and I walked more circum- 
spectly, keeping an eye on every side. The dusk had 
come nigh hand completely, and, as I opened out the 
cleft between the two peaks, I became aware of a waver- 
ing glow against the sky, where, as I judged, the man 
of the island was cooking his supper before a roaring 
fire. And yet I wondered, in my heart, that he should 
show himself so careless. For if I could see this 
radiance, might it not reach the eyes of Silver himself 
where he camped upon the shore among the marshes ? 


PIECES OF EIGHT 


22J 


It 


Gradually the night fell blacker ; it was all I could 
do to guide myself even roughly towards my destina- 
tion ; the double hill behind me and the Spy-glass on 
my right hand loomed faint and fainter ; the stars were 
few and pale ; and in the low ground where I wandered 
I kept tripping among bushes and rolling into sandy 
pits. 

Suddenly a kind of brightness fell about me. I looked 
up , a pale glimmer of moonbeams had alighted on the 
summit of the Spy-glass, and soon after I saw something 
broad and silvery moving low down behind the trees, 
and knew the moon had risen. 

With this to help me, I passed rapidly over what 
Temained to me of my journey; and, sometimes walking, 
sometimes running, impatiently drew near to the stock- 
ade. Yet, as I began to thread the grove that lies before 
it, I was not so thoughtless but that I slacked my pace 
and went a trifle warily. It would have been a poor end 
of my adventures to get shot down by my own party 
in mistake. 

The moon was climbing higher and higher ; its light 
began to fall here and there in masses through the more 
open districts of the wood ; and right in front of me a 
glow of a different colour appeared among the trees. 
It was red and hot, and now and again it was a little 
darkened — as it were the embers of a bonfire smoul- 
dering. 

For the life of me, I could not think what it might be. 


222 


TREASURE ISLANT> 


At last 1 came right down upon the borders ot 
the clearing. The western end was already steeped in 
moonshine ; the rest, and the block-house itself, still lay 
in a black shadow, chequered with long, silvery streaks 
of light. On the other side of the house an immense 
fire had burned itself into clear embers and shed a 
steady, red reverberation, contrasted strongly with the 
mellow paleness of the moon. There was not a soul 
stirring, nor a sound beside the noises of the breeze. 

I stopped, with much wonder in my heart, and per- 
haps a little terror also. It had not been our way to 
build great fires ; we were, indeed, by the captain’s 
orders, somewhat niggardly of firewood ; and I began 
to fear that something had gone wrong while I was 
absent. 

I stole round by the eastern end, keeping close in 
shadow, and at a convenient place, where the darkness 
was thickest, crossed the palisade. 

To make assurance surer, I got upon my hands and 
knees, and crawled, without a sound, towards the corner 
of the house. As I drew nearer, my heart was suddenly 
and greatly lightened. It is not a pleasant noise in 
itself, and I have often complained of it at other times ; 
but just then it was like music to hear my friends 
snoring together so loud and peaceful in their sleep. 
The sea cry of the watch, that beautiful “ All’s well,” 
never fell more reassuringly on my ear. 

In the meantime, there was no doubt of one things 


'‘PIECES OF EIGHT' 


223 


they kepi an infamous bad watch. If it had been Silver 
and his lads that were now creeping in on them, not a 
soul would have seen daybreak. That was what it was, 
thought 1, to have the captain wounded ; and again I 
blamed myself sharply for leaving them in that danger 
with so few to mount guard. 

by this time I had got to the door and stood up. All 
was dark within, so that I could distinguish nothing by 
the eye. As for sounds, there was the steady drone of 
the siiorcrs, and a small occasional noise, a flickering or 
pecking that 1 could in no way account for. 

With my arms before me I walked steadily in. I 
should lie down in my own place (I thought, with a 
silent chuckle) and enjoy their faces when they found 
me in the morning. 

My foot struck something yielding — it was a sleeper’s 
leg ; and he turned and groaned, but without awaking. 

And then, all of a sudden, a shrill voice broke forth 
out of the darkness : 

“ Pieces of eight I pieces of eight ! pieces of eight I 
pieces of eight ! pieces of eight ! ” and so forth, without 
pause or change, like the clacking of a tiny mill. 

Silver’s green parrot. Captain Flint ! It was she 
whom I had heard pecking at a piece of bark ; it was 
she, keeping better watch than any human being, who 
thus announced my arrival with her wearisome refrain. 

I had no time left me to recover. At the sharp, clip- 
ping tone of the parrot, the sleepers awoke and sprang 


224 


TREaSURK island 


up ; and with a mighty oath, the voice of Silvei 
cried : — 

“ Who goes 

I turned to run, struck violently against one person, 
recoiled, and ran full into the arms of a second, who, for 
his part, closed upon and held me tight. 

Bring a torch, Dick,^* said Silver, when my capture 
was thus assured. 

And one of the men left the log-house and presently 
returned with a lighted brand. 


part' VI 

CAPTAIN SILVER 

CHAPTER XXVIII 

IN THE enemy's CAMP 

The red glare of the torch, lighting up the interioi 
of the block-house, showed me the worst of my appre- 
hensions realised. The pirates were in possession of the 
house and stores : there was the cask of cognac, there 
were the pork and bread, as before ; and, what tenfold 
increased my horror, not a sign of any prisoner. I could 
only judge that all had perished, and my heart smote me 
sorely that I had not been there to perish with them. 

There were six of the buccaneers, all told; not an- 
other man was left alive. Five of them were on their 
feet, flushed and swollen, suddenly called out of the 
first sleep of drunkenness. Tlie sixth had only risen 
upon his elbow ; he was deadly pale, and the blood- 
stained bandage round his head told that he had recently 
been wounded, and still more recently dressed. I re- 
membered the man who had been shot and had run back 
15 


226 


TREASURE ISLAND 


among the woods in the great attack, and doubted not 
that this was he. 

The parrot sat, preening her plumage, on Long 
John’s shoulder. He himself, I thought, looked some- 
what paler and more stern than I was used to. He 
still wore the fine broadcloth suit in which he had ful* 
filled his mission, but it was bitterly the worse for wear, 
daubed with clay and torn with the sharp briers of the 
wood. 

So,” said he, “ here’s Jim Hawkins, shiver my 
timbers ! dropped in, like, eh ? Well, come, 1 take 
that friendly.” 

And thereupon he sat down across the brandy cask, 
and began to fill a pipe. 

“ Give me a loan of the link, Dick,” said he ; and 
then, when he had a good light, “ that'll do, lad,” he 
added ; stick the glim in the wood heap ; and you, 
gentlemen, bring yourselves to ! — you needn’t stand 
up for Mr. Hawkins ; he’ll excuse you, you may lay to 
that. And so, Jim ” — stopping the tobacco — “ here 
you were, and quite a pleasant surprise for poor old 
John. I see you were smart when first I set my eyes 
on you ; but this here gets away from me clean, it do.” 

To all this, as may be well supposed, I made no 
answer. They had set me with my back against the 
wall ; and I stood there, looking Silver in the face, 
pluckily enough, I. hope, to all outward appearance, 
but with black dcs])air in my heart. 


tN THE ENEMY'S CAMP 


227 


Silver took a whiff or two of his pipe with great com- 
posure, aud then ran on again. 

“ Now, yon see, Jim, so be as you are here,” says 
he, '‘I’ll give you a piece of my mind. I’ve always 
liked you, I have, for a lad of spirit, and the picter of 
my own self when I was young and handsome. I always 
wanted you to jine and take your share, and die a gen- 
tleman, and now, my cock, you’ve got to. Cap’n Smol- 
lett’s a fine seaman, as I’ll own up to any day, but stiff 
on discipline. ‘ Booty is dooty,’ says he, and right he 
is. Just you keep clear of the cap’n. The doctor him- 
self is gone dead again you — ‘ ungrateful scamp ’ was 
what he said ; and the short and the long of the whole 
story is about here : you can’t go back to your own lot, 
for they won’t have you ; and, without you start a third 
ship’s company all by yourself, which might be lonely, 
you’ll have to jine with Cap’n Silver.” 

So far so good. My friends, then, were still alive, aud 
though I partly believed the truth of Silver’s statement, 
that the cabin party were incensed at me for my desertion, 
I was more relieved than distressed by what I heard. 

“ I don’t say nothing as to your being in our hands,’' 
continued Silver, “ though there you are, and you may 
lay to it. I’m all for argyment ; I never seen good 
come out o’ threatening. If you like the service, well, 
you’ll jine ; and if you don’t, Jim, why, you’re free to 
answer no — free and welcome, shipmate ; and if fairer 
can be said by mortal seaman, shiver my sides ! ” 


228 


TREASURE ISLAI^D 


** Am I to answer, then ?'* J asked, with a very tremu- 
lous voice. Through all this sneering talk, 1 was made 
to feel the threat of death that overhung me, and my 
cheeks burned and my heart beat painfully in my 
breast. 

Lad,^’ said Silver, no one's a-pressing of you. 
Take your hearings. None of us won't hurry you, 
mate ; time goes so pleasant in your company, you 
see.” 

‘‘Well,” says I, growing a bit holder, “if I'm to 
choose, I declare 1 have a right to know what’s what, 
and why you’re here, and where my friends are.” 

“ Wot’s wot ? ” repeated one of the buccaneers, in ji 
deep growl. “Ah, he’d be a lucky one as knowed 
that I ” 

“You'll, perhaps, batten down your hatches till 
you're spoke, my friend,” cried Silver truculently tn 
this speaker. And then, in his first gracious tones, he 
replied to me : “ Yesterday morning, Mr. Hawkins,” 
said he, “in the dog-watch, down came Dr. Livesey 
with a flag of truce. Says he, ‘ Cap'n Silver, you're sold 
out. Ship's gone.' Well, maybe we'd been taking a 
glass, and a song to help it round. I won't say no 
Leastways none of us had looked out. We looked out, 
and, by thunder ! the old ship was gone. I never seen 
a pack o' fools look fishier ; and you may lay to that, if 
I tells you that looked the fishiest. ‘ Well,' says the 
doctor, ‘ let's bargain.' We bargained, him and I, and 


W THE enemy’s camp 


229 


nere we are stores, brandy, block-house, the firewood 
you was thoughtful enough to cut, and, in a manner of 
speaking, the whole blessed boat, from cross-trees to 
kelson. As for them, they’ve tramped ; I don’t know 
where’s they are.'* 

He drew again quietly at his pipe. 

** Ana lest you should take it into that head of 
yours,” he went on, that you was included in the 
treaty, here’s the last word that was said : ‘ How many 
are you,’ says I, ^ to leave ? ’ ' Four,’ says he — ^ four, 
and one of us wounded. As for that boy, I don’t know 
where he is, confound him,’ says he, ‘ nor I don’t much 
care. We’re about sick of him.’ These was his words.” 

‘‘Is that all ?” I asked. 

“ Well, it’s all that you’re to hear, my son,” returned 
Silver. 

“ And now I am to cl oose ? ” 

“And now you are to choose, and you may lay to 
that,” said Silver. 

“Well,” said I, “I am not such a fool but I know 
pretty well what I have to look for. Let the worst 
come to the worst, it’s little I care. I’ve seen too many 
die since I fell in with you. But there’s a thing or two 
I have to tell you,” I said, and by this time I was quite 
excited ; “ and the first is this ; here you are, in a bad 
way : ship lost, treasure lost, men lost ; your whole 
business gone to WTeck ; and if you want to know who 
did it— it was I I 1 was in the apple barrel the night 


^30 


TKEASURE ISLAND 


WO sighted land, and 1 heard you, John, and you, Dick 
Johnson, and Hands, who is now at the bottom of the 
sea, and told every word you said before the hour was 
out. And as for the schooner, it was I who cut her 
cable, and it was I that killed the men you had aboard 
of her, and it was I who brought her where you’ll never 
see her more, not one of you. The laugh’s on my side , 
I’ve had the top of this business from the first ; I no 
more fear you than 1 fear a fly. Kill me, if you please, 
or spare me. But one thing I’ll say, and no more ; if 
you spare me, bygones are bygones, and when you fel- 
lows are in court for piracy. I’ll save you all I can. It 
is for you to choose. Kill another and do yourselves no 
good, or spare me and keep a witness to save you from 
the gallows.” 

I stopped, for, I tell you, I was out of breath, and, to 
my wonder, not a man of them moved, but all sat star- 
ing at me like as many sheep. And while they were 
still staring, I broke out again : — 

And now, Mr. Silver,” I said, I believe you’re 
the best man here, and if things go the worst. I’ll take 
it kind of you to let the doctor know the way I took it.” 

‘‘ I’ll bear it in mind,” said Silver, with an accent 
so curious that I could not, for the life of me, decide 
whether he were laughing at my request, or had been 
favourably affected by my courage. 

“ I’ll put one to that,” cried the old mahogany-faced 
seaman — Morgan by name — whom I had seen in Long 


IN UHE enemy's camp 


23.i 

John’s public-house upon the quays of Bristol. '"‘It 
was him that knowed Black Dos:." 

Well, and see here," added the sea cook, ‘‘ril put 
another again to that, by thunder ! for it was this same 
boy that faked the chart from Billy Bones. First and 
last, we’ve split upon Jim Hawkins I” 

“ Then here goes ! ’’ said Morgan, with an oath. 

And he sprang up, drawing his knife as if he had 
been twenty. 

“ Avast there ! ’’ cried Silver. “ Who are you, Tom 
Morgan ? Maybe you thought you was cap’n here, 
perhaps. By the powers, but I’ll teach you better ! 
Cross me, and you’ll go where many a good man’s gone 
before you, first and last, these thirty year back — some 
to the yard-arm, shiver my sides ! and some by the 
board, and all to feed the fishes. There’s never a man 
looked me between the eyes and seen a good day a’ter- 
wards, Tom Morgan, you may lay to that.’’ 

Morgan paused ; but a hoarse murmur rose from 
the others. 

Tom’s right,’’ said one. 

I stood hazing long enough from one," added 
another. “ I’ll be hanged if I’ll be hazed by you, 
John Silver.’’ 

Did any of you gentlemen want to have it out with 
me 9 ” roared Silver, bending far forward from his posi- 
tion on the keg, with his pipe still glowing in his right 
hand. Put a name on what you’re at ; you ain’t 


232 


TREASURE ISLAND 


dumb, I reckon. Him that wants shall get it. Have I 
lived this many years, and a son of a rum puncheon 
cock his hat athwart my hawse at the latter end of it ? 
You know the way ; you^re all gentlemen o’ fortune, by 
your account. Well, I’m ready. Take a cutlass, him 
that dares, and I’ll see the colour of his inside, crutch 
and all, before that pipe’s empty.” 

Not a man stirred ; not a man answered. 

That’s your sort, is it ? ” he added, returning his 
pipe to his mouth. Well, you’re a gay lot to look 
at, anyway. Not much worth to fight, you ain’t. 
P’r’aps you can understand King George’s English. 
I’m cap’n here by ’lection. I’m cap’n here because 
I’m the best man by a long sea-mile. You won’t fight, 
as gentlemen o’ fortune should ; then, by thunder, 
you’ll obey, and you may lay to it ! I like that boy, 
now ; 1 never seen a better boy than that. He’s more 
a man than any pair of rats of you in this here house, 
and what I say is this : let me see him that’ll lay a 
hand on him — that’s what I say, and you may lay to 
it.” 

There was a long pause after this. I stood straight 
np against the wall, my heart still going like a sledge- 
hammer, but with a ray of hope now shining in my 
bosom. Silver leant back against the wall, his arms 
crossed, his pipe in the corner of his mouth, as calm as 
though he had been in church ; yet his eye kept wan- 
dering furtively, and he kept the tail of it on his unruly 


IN THE enemy’s CAMP 


288 


followers. They, on their part, drew gradually together 
towards the far end of the block-house, and the low hisa 
of their whispering sounded in my ear continuously like 
a stream. One after another they would look up, and 
the red light of the torch would fall for a second on 
their nervous faces ; but it was not towards me, it was 
towards Silver that they turned their eyes. 

“You seem to have a lot to say,” remarked Silver, 
spitting far into the air. “ Pipe up and let me hear it, 
or lay to.” 

“ Ax your pardon, sir,” returned one of the men, 

you’re pretty free with some of the rules ; maybe 
you’ll kindly keep an eye upon the rest. This crew’s 
dissatisfied ; this crew don’t vally bullying a marlin- 
spike ; this crew has its rights like other crews. I’ll 
make so free as that ; and by your own rules, I take it 
we can talk together. I ax your pardon, sir, acknowl- 
edging you to be capting at this present ; but I claim 
my right, and steps outside for a council.” 

And with an elaborate sea-salute, this fellow, a long, 
ill-looking, yellow-eyed man of five-and-thirty, stepped 
coolly towards the door and disappeared out of the 
house. One after another, the rest followed his ex- 
ample ; each making a salute as he passed ; each add- 
ing some apology. “According to rules,” said one. 
“Fo’c’s’le council,” said Morgan. And so with one 
remark or another, all marched out, and left Silver 
and me alone with the torch. 


234 


TREASURE ISLAJffL 


The sea cook instantly removed his pipe. 

“ Now, look you here, Jim Hawkins,'’^ he said, in a 
steady whisper, that was no more than audible, “ you’re 
within half a plank of death, and, what’s a long sight 
worse, of torture. They’re going to throw me olL 
But, you mark, I stand by you through thick and thin. 
I didn’t mean to ; no, not till you spoke up. I was 
about desperate to lose that much blunt, and be hanged 
into the bargain. But I see you was the right sort. 1 
says to myself : You stand by Hawkins, John, and 
Hawkins ’ll stand by you. You’re his last card, and, 
by the living thunder, John, he’s yours ! Buck to back, 
says I. You save your witness, and he'll save your 
neck I ” 

I began dimly to understand. 

‘*You mean all’s lost?” I asked. 

** Ay, by gum, I do!” he answered. ‘'Ship gone, 
neck gone — that’s the size of it. Once I looked into 
that bay, Jim Hawkins, and seen no schooner — well. 
I’m tough, but I gave out. As for that lot and their 
council, mark me, they’re outright fools and cowards. 
I’ll save your life — if so be as I can — from them. But. 
3ee here, Jim — tit for tat — you save Long John from 
swinging.” 

I was bewildered ; it seemed a thing so hopeless he 
was asking — he, the old buccaneer, the ringleader 
diroughout. 

“ VVhat I can do, that I’ll do,” I said. 


IN THE enemy’s CAMP 


235 


“ It’s a bargain ! ” cried Long John. ** You speak 
up plucky, and, by thunder ! I’ve a chance.” 

He hobbled to the torch, where it stood propped 
among the firewood, and took a fresh light to his pipe. 

Understand me, Jim,” he said, returning. ‘‘I’ve 
a head on my shoulders, I have. I’m on squire’s side 
now. I know you’ve got that ship safe somewheres. 
How you done it, I don’t know, but safe it is. I guess 
Hands and O’Brien turned soft. I never much believed 
in neither of them. Now you mark me. I ask no 
questions, nor I won’t let others. I know when a 
game’s up, I do ; and I know a lad that’s staunch. 
All, you that’s young — you and me might have done a 
power of good together I ” 

He drew some cognac from the cask into a tin cannikin. 

“ Will you taste, messmate ? ” he asked ; and when 
I had refused ; “ Well, I’ll take a drain myself, Jim,” 
said he. “I need a caulker, for there’s trouble on 
hand. And, talking o’ trouble, why did that doctor 
give me the chart, Jim ?” 

My face expressed a wonder so unaffected that he 
saw the needlessness of further questions. 

“ Ah, well, he did, though,” said he. “ And there’s 
something under that, no doubt — something, surely, 
under that, Jim — bad or good.” 

And he took another swallow of the brandy, shaking 
his great fair head Hke a man who looks forward to 
the worst. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


THE BLACK SPOT AGAIN 

The council of the buccaneers had lasted some time 
when one of them re-entered the house, and with a 
repetition of the same salute, which had in my eyes an 
ironical air, begged for a moment’s loan of the torch. 
Silver briefly agreed ; and this emissary retired again, 
leaving us together in the dark. 

^‘There’s a breeze coming, Jim,” said Silver, who 
had, by this time, adopted quite a friendly and familiar 
tone. 

I turned to the loophole nearest me and looked out. 
The embers of the great fire had so far burned them- 
selves out, and now glowed so low and duskily, that 
I understood why these conspirators desired a torch. 
About half way down the slope to the stockade, they 
were collected in a group ; one held the light ; another 
was on his knees in their midst, and I saw the blade 
of an open knife shine in his hand with varying colours, 
in the moon and torchlight. The rest were all some- 
what stooping, as though watching the manoeuvres of 
th'j last. 1 could just make out that he had a book 
»• veil as a kuife in his hand ; and was still wondering 


THE BLACK SPOT AGAIN 


287 


how anything so incongruous had come in their pos- 
session, when the kneeling figure rose once more to his 
feet, and the whole party began to move together 
towards the house. 

“ Here they come,'’ said I ; and I returned to my 
former position, for it seemed beneath my dignity that 
they should find me watching them. 

“ Well, let 'em come, lad — let 'em come," said Silver, 
cheerily. “ I've still a shot in my locker." 

The door opened, and the five men, standing huddled 
together just inside, pushed one of their number forward. 
In any other circumstances it would have been comical 
to see his slow advance, hesitating as he set down each 
foot, but holding his closed right hand in front of him. 

** Step up, lad," cried Silver. ‘‘ I won't eat you. 
Hand it over, lubber. I know the rules, I do ; 1 won't 
hurt a depytation.” 

Thus encouraged, the buccaneer stepped forth more 
briskly, and having passed something to Silver, from 
hand to hand, slipped yet more smartly back again to 
his companions. 

The sea cook looked at what had been given him. 

The black spot 1 I thought so," he observed. 

‘ ' Where might you have got the paper ? Why, hillo 1 
look here, now • this ain't lucky I You've gone and cut 
this out of a Bible. What fool's cut a Bible ? " 

"Ah, there I" said Morgan — "there I Wot did I 
say ? No good’ll come o' that, I said." 


238 


TREASURE ISLAND 


Well, you’ve about fixed it now, among you,’' con- 
tinued Silver. You’ll all swing now, 1 reckon. What 
soft-headed lubber had a Bible ?” 

“ It was Dick,” said one. 

‘‘ Dick, was it ? Then Dick can get to prayei-s,” said 
Silver. He’s seen his slice of luck, has Dick, and you 
may lay to that.” 

But here the long man with the yellow eyes struck in. 

Belay that talk, John Silver,” he said. This 
crew has tipped you the black spot in full council, as in 
dooty bound ; just you turn it over, as in dooty bound, 
and see what’s wrote there. Then you can talk.” 

“ ’Uhauky, George,” replied the sea cook. “ You 
always was brisk for business, and has the rules by 
heart, George, as I’m pleased to see. Well, what is it, 
anyway ? Ah I ^ Deposed ’ — that’s it, is it ? Very 
pretty wrote, to be sure ; like print, I swear. Your 
hand o’ write, George ? Why, you was gettin’ quite a 
leadin’ man in this here crew. You’ll be cap’n next, I 
shouldn’t wonder. Just oblige me with that torch 
again, will you ? this pipe don’t draw.” 

“ Come, now,” said George, you don’t fool this crew 
no more. You’re a funny man, by your account ; but 
you’re over now, and you’ll maybe step down off that 
barrel, and help vote.” 

I thought you said you knowed the rules,” returned 
Silver, contemptuously. “ Leastways, if you don’t, 1 
do ; and I wait here — and I’m still your cap’n, mind — 



raE BLACK SPOT AGAIN 


239 


till you outs with your grievances, and I reply ; in the 
meantime, your black spot ain’t worth a biscuit. After 
that, we’ll see.” 

“ Oh,” replied George, ** you don’t be under no kiiuJ 
of apprehension ; tveWe all square, we are. First, you’ve 
made a hash of this craise — you’ll be a bold man to say 
no to that. Second, you let the enemy out o’ this here 
traj) for nothing. Why did they want out ? I dunno ; 
but it’s pretty plain they wanted it. Third, you wouldn’t 
• let us go at them upon the march. Oh, we see through 
you, John Silver ; you want to play booty, that’s what’s 
wrong with you. And then, fourth, there’s this here 
boy.” 

“ Is that all ? ” asked Silver quietly. 

“ Enough, too,” retorted George. “ We’ll all swing 
and sun-dry for your bungling.” 

** Well, now, look here. I’ll answer these four p’ints ; 
one after another I’ll answer ’em. I made a hash o’ this 
cruise, did I ? Well, now, you all know what 1 wanted : 
and you all know, if that had been done, that we’d ’a’ 
been aboard the Hispaniola this night as ever was, every 
man of us alive, and fit, and full of good plum-duff, and 
the treasure in the hold of her, by thunder ! Well, who 
crossed me ? Who forced my hand, as was the lawful 
cap’n ? Who tipped me the black spot the day we 
landed, and began this dance ? Ah, it’s a fine dance—- 
I’m with you there — and looks mighty like a hornpipe 
in a rope’s end at Execution Dock by Loudon town, it 


240 


TREASURE ISLAND 


does. But who done it ? Why, it was Anderson, and 
Hands, and you, George Merry ! And you’re the lai.i 
above board of that same meddling crew ; and you have 
the Davy Jones’s insolence to up and stand for cap’n 
over me — you, that sank the lot of us 1 By the powers I 
but this tops the stilfest yarn to nothing.” 

Silver paused, and I could see by the faces of George 
and his late comrades that these words had not been said 
in vain. 

** That’s for number one,” cried the accused, wiping 
the sweat from his brow, for he had been talking with a 
vehemence that shook the house. ** Why, I give you 
my word, I’m sick to speak to you. You’ve neither 
sense nor memory, and I leave it to fancy where your 
mothers was that let you come to sea. Sea ! Gentle- 
men o’ fortune ! I reckon tailors is your trade.” 

Go on, John,” said Morgan. “ Speak up to the 
others.” 

** Ah, the others I ” returned John. They’re a nice 
lot, ain’t they ? You say this cruise is bungled. Ah ! 
by gum, if you could understand how bad it’s bungled, 
you would see ! We’re that near the gibbet"- that my 
neck’s stiff with thinking on it. You’ve seen ’em, 
maybe, hanged in chains, birds about ’em, seamen p’int- 
ing ’em out as they go down with the tide. * Who’s 
that ?’ says one. ‘ That ! Why, that’s John Silver. I 
knowed him well,’ says another. And you can hear the 
chains a-jangle as you go about and reach for the other 


THE BLACK SPOT AGAIN 


241 


buoy. Now, that’s about where we are, every mother’s 
son of us, thanks to him, and Hands, and Anderson, 
and other ruination fools of you. And if you want to 
know about number four, and that boy, why, shiver my 
timbers ! isn’t he a hostage ? Are we a-going to waste a 
hostage ? No, not us ; he might be our last chance, 
and I shouldn’t wonder. Kill that boy ? not me, mates ! 
And number three ? Ah, well, there’s a deal to say to 
number three. Maybe you don’t count it nothing to 
have a real college doctor come to see you every day — 
you, John, with your head broke — or you, George Merry, 
that had the ague shakes upon you not six hours agone, 
and has your eyes the colour of lemon peel to this same 
moment on the clock ? And maybe, perhaps, you didn’t 
know there was a consort coming, either ? But there 
is ; and not so long till then ; and we’ll see who’ll be 
glad to have a hostage when it comes to that. And as 
for number two, and why I made a bargain — well, you 
came crawling on your knees to me to make it — on your 
knees you came, you was that downhearted — and you’d 
have starved, too, if I hadn’t — but that’s a trifle ! you 
look there — that’s why ! ” 

And he cast down upon the floor a paper that I in- 
stantly recognised — none other than the chart on yellow 
paper, with the three red crosses, that I had found in 
the oilcloth at the bottom of the captain’s chest. Why 
the doctor had given it to him was more than I could 
fancy. 


16 


242 


TREASURE ISLAND 


But if it were inexplicable to me, the appearance of 
the chart was incredible to the surviving mutineers. 
They leaped upon it like cats upon a mouse. It went 
from hand to hand, one tearing it from another ; and 
by the oaths and the cries and the childish laughter 
with which they accompanied their examination, you 
would have thought, not only they were fingering the 
very gold, but were at sea with it, besides, in safety. 

Yes,” said one, “that’s Flint sure enough. J. F., 
and a score below, with a clove hitch to it ; so he done 
ever.” 

“ Mighty pretty,” said George. “ But how are we to 
get away with it, and us no ship ? ” 

Silver suddenly sprang up, and supporting himself 
with a hand against the wall : “ Now I give you w'arn- 
ing, George,” he cried. “ One more word of your 
sauce, and I’ll call you down and fight you. How ? 
Why, how do I know ? You had ought to tell me 
that — you and the rest, that lost me my schooner, with 
your interference, burn you ! But not you, you can’t ; 
you hain’t got the invention of a cockroach. But 
civil you can speak, and shall, George ]\Ierry, you may 
lay to that.” 

“ That’s fair enow,” said the old man Morgan. 

“ Fair ! I reckon so,” said the sea cook. “You 
lost the ship ; I found the treasure. Who’s the better 
man at that ? And now I resign, by thunder ! Elect 
whom you please to be your cap’n now; I’m done with it- 


THE BLACK SLOT AGAIN 


243 


‘‘ Silver ! ” they cried. “ Barbecue for ever ! Bar- 
becue for cap’n ! ” 

“ So that’s the toon, is it ? ” cried the cook. 
“ George, I reckon you’ll have to wait another turn, 
friend ; and lucky for you as I’m not a revengeful man. 
But that was never my way. And now, shipmates, this 
black spot ? ’Tain’t much good now, is it ? Dick’s 
crossed his luck and spoiled his Bible, and that’s about 
all.” 

It’ll do to kiss the book on still, won’t it ? ” growled 
Dick, who was evidently uneasy at the curse he had 
brought upon himself. 

A Bible with a bit cut out ! ” returned Silver 
derisively. Not it. It don’t bind no more’n a ballad- 
iook.” 

Don’t it, though ? ” cried Dick, with a sort of joy. 
“ Well, I reckon that’s worth having, too.” 

“ Here, Jim — here’s a cur’osity for you,” said Silver ; 
and he tossed me the paper. 

It was a round about the size of a crown piece. One 
side was blank, for it had been the last leaf ; the other 
contained a verse or two of Revelation — these words 
among the rest, which struck sharply home upon my 
mind : Without are dogs and murderers.” The 

printed side had been blackened with wood ash, which 
already began to come off and soil my fingers ; on the 
blank side had been written with the same material the 
one word Depposed.” I have that curiosity beside 


244 


TREASURE ISLAND 


me at tliis moment ; but not a trace of writing now 
remains beyond a single scratch, such as a man might 
make with his thumb-nail. 

That was the end of the night’s business. Soon after, 
with a drink all round, we lay down to sleep, and the 
outside of Silver’s vengeance was to put George Merry 
up for sentinel, and threaten him with death if he should 
prove unfaithful. 

It was long ere I could close an eye, and Heaven 
knows I had matter enough for thought in the man 
whom I had slain that afternoon, in my own most 
perilous position, and, above all, in the remarkable 
game that I saw Silver now engaged upon — keeping the 
mutineers together with one hand, and grasping, with 
the other, after every means, possible and impossible, to 
make his peace and save his miserable life. He himself 
slept peacefully, and snored aloud ; yet my heart was 
sore for him, wicked as he was, to think on the dark 
perils that environed, and the shameful gibbet that 
awaited him. 


CHAPTER XXX 


ON PAROLE 

I WAS wakened — indeed, we were all wakened, for I 
could see even the sentinel shake himself together from 
where he had fallen against the door-post — by a clear, 
nearty voice hailing us from the margin of the wood : — 

“ Block-house, ahoy 1 it cried. ** Kerens the doc 
tor.” 

And the doctor it was. Although I was glad to hear 
the sound, yet my gladness was not without admixture. 
I remembered with confusion my insubordinate and 
stealthy conduct ; and when I saw where it had brought 
me — among what companions and surrounded by what 
dangers — I felt ashamed to look him in the face. 

He must have risen in the dark, for the day had 
hardly come ; and when I ran to a loophole and looked 
out, I saw him standing, like Silver once before, up to 
the mid-leg in creeping vapour. 

You, doctor I Top o’ the morning to you, sir I ” 
cried Silver, broad awake and beaming with good-nature 
in a moment. Bright and early, to be sure ; and it’s 
the early bird, as the saying goes, tliat gets the rations. 
George, shake up your timbers, son, and help Dr. Live 


246 


TREASURE ISLAND 


sey over the ship’s side. All a-doiu’ well, your patients 
was— all well and merry.” 

So he pattered on, standing on the hill-top, with his 
crutch under his elbow, and one hand upon the side 
of the log-house — quite the old John in voice, manner, 
and expression. 

We’ve quite a surprise for you, too, sir,” he con- 
tinued. “ We’ve a little stranger here — he ! he ! A 
noo boarder and lodger, sir, and looking fit and taut as 
a fiddle : slep’ like a supercargo, he did, right alongside 
of John — stem to stem we was, all night.” 

Dr. Livesey was by this time across the stockade and 
pretty near the cook ; and I could hear the alteration in 
his voice as he said — 

‘‘Not Jim ?” 

“The very same Jim as ever was,” says Silver. 

The doctor stopped outright, although he did not 
speak, and it was some seconds before he seemed able 
to move on. 

“ Well, well,” he said, at last, “ duty first and pleasure 
afterwards, as you might have said yourself. Silver. 
Let us overhaul these patients of yours.” 

A moment afterwards he had entered the block-house, 
and, with one grim nod to me, proceeded with his work 
among the sick. He seemed under no apprehensioiL 
though he must have known that his life, among these 
treacherous demons, depended on a hair ; and he rattled 
on to his patients as if he were paying an ordinary pro 


ON PAROLE 


247 


fessional visit in a quiet English family. His manner* 
I suppose, reacted on the men ; for they behaved to him 
as if nothing had occurred — as if he were still ship’s 
doctor, and they still faithful hands before the mast. 

“ You’re doing well, my friend,” he said to the fellow 
with the bandaged head, “ and if ever any person had 
a close shave, it was you ; your head must be as hard 
as iron. Well, George, how goes it ? You’re a pretty 
colour, certainly ; why, your liver, man, is upside down. 
Did you take that medicine ? Did he take that med- 
icine, men 

Ay, ay, sir, he took it, sure enough,” returned 
Morgan. 

Because, you see, since I am mutineers’ doctor, or 
prison doctor, as I prefer to call it,” says Dr. Livesey, 
in his pleasantest way, “ I make it a point of honour 
not to lose a man for King George (God bless him 1) 
and the gallows.” 

The rogues looked at each other, but swallowed the 
home-thrust in silence. 

“ Dick don’t feel well, sir,” said one. 

“ Don’t he ? ” replied the doctor. “ Well, step up 
here, Dick, and let me see your tongue. No, I should 
be surprised if he did ! the man’s tongue is fit to 
frighten the French. Another fever.” 

“ Ah, there,” said Morgan, that corned of 8p’ilin| 
Bibles.” 

“That corned — as you call it— of being arrant asses,' 


248 


TREASURE ISLAND 


retorted the doctor, ‘^and not having sense enough to 
Know honest air from poison, and the dry land from 
a vile, pestiferous slough. I think it most probable — 
though, of course, it’s only an opinion — that you’ll all 
have the deuce to pay before you get that malaria out 
of your systems. Camp in a bog, would you ? Silver, 
I’m surprised at you. You’re less of a fool than many, 
take you all round ; but you don’t appear to me to have 
the rudiments of a notion of the rules of health.” 

Well,” he added, after he had dosed them round, 
and they had taken his prescriptions, with really laugh- 
able humility, more like charity school-children than 
blood-guilty mutineers and pirates — well, that’s done 
for to-day. And now I should wish to have a talk with 
that boy, please.” 

And he nodded his head in my direction carelessly. 

George Merry was at the door, spitting and splutter- 
ing over some bad -tasted medicine ; but at the first 
word of the doctor’s proposal he swung round with a 
deep flush, and cried No !” and swore. 

Silver struck the barrel with his open hand. 

“Si-lence!” he roared, and looked about him posi- 
tively like a lion. Doctor,” he went on, in his usual 
tones, was a-thinking of that, knowing as how you 
had a fancy for the boy. We’re all humbly grateful 
for your kindness, and, as you see, puts faith in you, 
and takes the drugs down like that much grog. And I 
take it, I’ve found a way as’ll suit all. Hawkins, will 


ON PAROLE 


249 


you give me your word of honour as a young gentle- 
man — for a young gentleman you are, although poor 
born — your word of honour not to slip your cable ? 

I readily gave the pledge required. 

“Then, doctor,” said Silver, “you just step outside 
o’ that stockade, and once you’re there. I’ll bring the 
boy down on the inside, and I reckon you can yarn 
through the spars. Good-day to you, sir, and all our 
dooties to the squire and Cap’n Smollett.” 

The explosion of disapproval, which nothing but 
Silver’s black looks had restrained, broke out imme- 
diately the doctor had left the house. Silver was 
roundly accused of playing double — of trying to make 
a separate peace for himself — of sacrificing the interests 
of his accomplices and victims ; and, in one word, of 
the identical, exact thing that he was doing. It seemed 
to me so obvious, in this case, that I could not imagine 
how he was to turn their anger. But he was twice the 
man the rest were ; and his last night’s victory had 
given him a huge preponderance on their minds. He 
called them all the fools and dolts you can imagine, 
said it was necessary I should talk to the doctor, flut- 
tered the chart in their faces, asked them if they could 
afford to break the treaty the very day they were bound 
a-treasure-hunting. 

“ No, by thunder ! ” he cried, “ it’s us must break the 
treaty when the time comes ; and till then I’ll gammon 
that doctor, if I have to ile his boots with brandy.” 


250 


TREASURE 'ISLAND 


And then he hade them get the fire lit, and stalkea 
out upon his crutch, with his hand on my shoulder, 
leaving them in a disarray, and silenced by his volubility 
rather than convinced. 

‘'Slow, lad, slow,"" he said. “They might round 
upon us in a twinkle of an eye, if we was seen to 
hurry."" 

Very deliberately, then, did we advance across the 
sand to where the doctor awaited us on the other side of 
the stockade, and as soon as we were within easy speak- 
ing distance. Silver stopped. 

“ You"ll make a note of this here also, doctor,"" says 
he, “and the boy"ll tell you how I saved his life, and 
were deposed for it, too, and you may lay to that. 
Doctor, when a man"s steering as near the wind as me — 
playing chuck-farthing with the last breath in his body, 
like — you wouldn’t think it too much, mayhap, to give 
him one good word ? You’ll please bear in mind it’s 
not my life only now — it’s that boy’s into the bargain ; 
and you’ll speak me fair, doctor, and give me a bit o" 
hope to go on, for the sake of mercy.” 

Silver was a changed man, once he was out there and 
had his back to his friends and the block-house ; his 
cheeks seemed to have fallen in, his voice trembled ; 
never was a soul more dead in earnest. 

“Why, John, you’re not afraid ?” asked Dr. Live- 
sey. 

“ Doctor, no coward ; no, not I — not so much I ” 


ON PAROLE 


251 


and he snapped his lingers. “ If I was I wouldn’t 
say it. But FIl own up fairly, I’ve the shakes upon me 
for the gallows. You’re a good man and a true ; I 
never seen a better man ! And you’ll not forget what 
I done good, not any more than you’ll forget the bad, 
I know. And I step aside — see here — and leave you 
and Jim alone. And you’ll put that down for me, too, 
for it’s a long stretch, is that ! ” 

So saying, he stepped back a little way, till he was 
out of earshot, and there sat down upon a tree-stump 
and began to whistle ; spinning round now and again 
upon his seat so as to command a sight, sometimes 
of me and the doctor, and sometimes of his unruly 
ruffians as they went to and fro in the sand, between 
the fire — which they were busy rekindling — and the 
house, from which they brought forth pork and bread 
to make the breakfast. 

So, Jim,” said the doctor sadly, “ here you are. 
As you have brewed, so shall you drink, my boy. 
Heaven knows, I cannot find it in my heart to blame 
you ; but this much I will say, be it kind or unkind : 
when Captain Smollett was well, you dared not have 
gone off ; and when he was ill, and couldn’t help it, by 
George, it was downright cowardly ! ” 

I will own that I here began to weep. “Doctor,” 
I said, “you might spare me. I have blamed myself 
enough ; my life’s forfeit anyway, and T should have 
been dead by now, if Silver hadn’t stood for me ; and 


252 


TREASURE ISLAND 


doctor, believe this, I can die — and I daresay I deserve 
it — but what I fear is torture. If they come to torture 


^‘Jim/* the doctor interrupted, aud his voice was 
quite changed, “ Jim, I can’t have this. Whip over, 
and we’ll run for it.” 

Doctor,” said I, I passed my word.” 

I know, I know,” he cried. ‘‘ We can’t help that, 
Jim, now. I’ll take it on my shoulders, holus bolus, 
blame and shame, my boy ; but stay here, I cannot let 
you. Jump I One jump, and you’re out, and we’ll 
run for it like antelopes.” 

“ No,” I replied, ^'you know right well you wouldn’t 
do the thing yourself ; neither you, nor squire, nor 
captain ; and no more will I. Silver trusted me ; 1 
passed my word, and back I go. But, doctor, you did 
not let-me finish. If they come to torture me, I might 
let slip a word of where the ship is ; for I got the ship, 
part by luck and part by risking, and she lies in North 
Inlet, on the southern beach, and just below high water. 
At half tide she must be high and dry.” 

The ship I ” exclaimed the doctor. 

Rapidly I described to him my adventures, and he 
heard me out in' silence. 

‘‘ There is a kind of fate in this,” he observed, when 
I had done. Every step, it’s you that saves our lives ; 
and do you suppose by any chance that we are going to 
let you lose yours ? That would be a poor return, my 


ON PAROLE 


253 


boy. You found out the plot ; you found Ben Gunn 
— the best deed that ever you did, or will do, though 
you live to ninety. Oh, by Jupiter, and talking of 
Ben Gunn ! why, this is the mischief in person. 
Silver ! ” he cried, Silver ! — 1^11 give you a piece of 
advice,” he continued, as the" cook drew near again ; 
“ don’t you be in any great hurry after that treasure.” 

“ Why, sir, I do my possible, which that ain’t,” said 
Silver. I can only, asking your pardon, save my life 
and the boy’s by seeking for that treasure ; and you 
may lay to that.” 

Well, Silver,” replied the doctor, if that is so. 
I’ll go one step further: look out for squalls when 
you find it.” 

“ Sir,” said Silver, ‘‘as between man and man, that’s 
too much and too little. What you’re after, why you 
left the block-house, why you given me that there 
chart, I don’t know, now, do I ? and yet I done your 
bidding with my eyes shut and never a word of hope J 
But no, this here’s too much. If you won’t tell me 
what you mean plain out, just say so, and I’ll leave 
the helm.” 

“No,” said the doctor, musingly, “I’ve no right to 
say more ; it’s not my secret, you see. Silver, or, I give 
you my word, I’d tell it you. But I’ll go as far with 
you as I dare go, and a step beyond ; for I’ll have my 
wig sorted by the captain or I’m mistaken ! And, first, 
ril give you a bit of hope : Silver, if we both get alive 


TREASURE ISLAND 


tioi 

out of this wolf-trap. I'll do my best to save you, short 
of perjury.” 

Silver’s face was radiant. ‘‘You couldn’t say more. 
I’m sure, sir, not if you was my mother,” he cried. 

“Well, that’s my first concession,” added the doctor. 
“My second is a piece of advice : Keep the boy close 
beside you, and when you need help, halloo. I’m off to 
seek it for you, and that itself will show you if I speak 
at random. Good-bye, Jim.” 

And Dr. Livesey shook hands with me through the 
stockade, nodded to Silver, and set off at a brisk pace 
into the wood. 


CHAPTER XXXI 

THE TREASURE HUNT — FLINT’S POINTER 

Jim,” said Silver, when we were alone, ‘^if I saved 
your life, you saved mine ; and I’ll not forget it. I seen 
the doctor waving you to run for it — with the tail of 
niy eye> I did ; and I seen you say no, as plain as hear- 
ing. Jim, that’s one to you. This is the first glint of 
hope I had since the attack failed, and I owe it you. 
And now, Jim, we’re to go in for this here treasure- 
hunting, with sealed orders, too, and I don’t like it; 
and you and me must stick close, back to back like, and 
we’ll save our necks in spite o’ fate and fortune.” 

Just then a man hailed us from the fire that breakfast 
was ready, and we were soon seated here and there about 
the sand over biscuit and fried junk. They had lit a 
fire fit to roast an ox ; and it was now grown so hot that 
they could only approach it from the windward, and 
even there not without precaution. In the same waste- 
ful spirit, they had cooked, I suppose, three times more 
than we could eat ; and one of them, with an empty 
laugh, threw what was left into the fire, which blazed 
and roared again over this unusual fuel. I never in my 
life saw men so careless of the morrow ; hand to nioutb 


256 


TREASUEE ISLAND 


is the ouly word that can describe their way of doing ; 
and what with wasted food and sleeping sentries, though 
they were bold enough for a brush and be done with it, 
I could see their entire unfitness for anything like a 
prolonged campaign. 

Even Silver, eating away, with Captain Flint upon 
his shoulder, had not a word of blame for their reckless- 
ness. And this the more surprised me, for I thought 
he had never shown himself so cunning as he did then. 

Ay, mates,” said he, it’s lucky yon have Barbecue 
to think for you with this here head. I got what I 
wanted, I did. Sure enough, they have the ship. 
Where they have it, I don’t know yet ; but once we hit 
the treasure, we’ll have to jump about and find out. 
And then, mates, us that has the boats, I reckon, has 
the upper hand.” 

Thus he kept running on, with his mouth full of the 
hot bacon : thus he restored their hope and confidence, 
and, I more than suspect, repaired his own at the same 
time. 

As for hostage,” he continued, that’s his last talk, 
1 guess, with them he loves so dear. I’ve got my piece 
o’’ news, and thanky to him for that ; but it’s over and 
done. I’ll take him in a line when we go treasure- 
hunting, for we’ll keep him like so much gold, in case 
of accidents, you mark, and in the meantime Once we 
got the ship and treasure both, and off to sea like jolly 
companions, why, then, we’ll talk Mr. Hawkins ever. 


THE TREASURE HUNT — FLINT’S POINTER 257 


we will, and we’ll give him his share, to be sure, for all 
his kindness.” 

It was no wonder the men were in a good humour 
now. For my part, I was horribly cast down. Should 
the scheme he had now sketched prove feasible. Silver, 
already doubly a traitor, would not hesitate to adopt it. 
He had still a foot in either camp, and there was no 
doubt he would prefer wealth and freedom with the 
pirates to a bare escape from hanging, which was the 
best he had to hope on our side. 

Nay, and even if things so fell out that he was 
forced to keep his faith with Dr. Livesey, even then 
what danger lay before us ! What a moment that 
would be when the suspicions of his followers turned 
to certainty, and he and I should have to fight for dear 
life — he, a cripple, and I, a boy — against five strong 
and active seamen ! 

Add to this double apprehension, the mystery that 
still hung over the behaviour of my friends ; their un- 
explained desertion of the stockade ; their inexplicable 
cession of the chart ; or, harder still to understand, the 
doctor’s last warning to Silver, “ Look out for squalls 
when you find it ; ” and you will readily believe how 
little taste I found in my breakfast, and with how 
uneasy a heart I set forth behind my captors on the 
quest for treasure. 

We made a curious figure, had anyone been there 
to see us ; all in soiled sailor clothes, and all but me 
17 


258 


TREASURE ISLAND 


armed to the teeth. Silver had two guns slung about 
him — one before and one behind — besides the great 
cutlass at his waist, and a pistol in each pocket of his 
square-tailed coat. To complete his strange appearance. 
Captain Flint sat perched upon his shoulder and gab- 
bling odds and ends of purposeless sea-talk. I had a 
line about my waist, and followed obediently after the 
sea cook, who held the loose end of the rope, now in 
his free hand, now between his powerful teeth. For all 
the world, I was led like a dancing bear. 

The other men were variously burthened ; some carry- 
ing picks and shovels — for that had been the very first 
necessary they brought ashore from the Hispaniola — 
others laden with pork, bread, and brandy for the 
midday meal. All the stores, I observed, came from 
our stock ; and I could see the truth of Silver’s words 
the night before. Had he not struck a bargain with 
the doctor, he and his mutineers, deserted by the ship, 
must have been driven to subsist on clear water and the 
proceeds of their hunting. Water would have been 
little to their taste ; a sailor is not usually a good shot ; 
and, besides all that, when they were so short of eat- 
ables, it was not likely they would be very flush of 
powder. 

Well, thus equipped, we all set out — even the fellow 
with the broken head, who should certainly have kept 
in shadow — and straggled, one after another, to the 
beach, where the two gigs awaited us. Even these bore 


THE TREASURE HUNT —FLINT’S POINTER 259 

trace of the drunken folly of the pirates, one in a 
broken thwart, and both in their muddied and unbaled 
condition. Both were to be carried along with us, for 
the sake of safety ; and so, with our numbers divided 
between them, we set forth upon the bosom of the 
anchorage. 

As we pulled over, there was some discussion on the 
chart. The red cross was, of course, far too large to be 
a guide ; and the terms of the note on the back, as 
you will hear, admitted of some ambiguity. They ran, 
the reader may remember, thus : — 

“ Tall tree, Spy-glass Shoulder, bearing a point to the N. 
of N.N.E. 

“ Skeleton Island E.S.E. and by E. 

“ Ten feet.” 

A tall tree was thus the principal mark. Now, 
right before us, the anchorage was bounded by a plateau 
from two to three hundred feet high, adjoining on the 
north the sloping southern shoulder of the Spy-glass, 
and rising again towards the south into the rough, cliffy 
eminence called the Mizzen-mast Hill. The top of the 
plateau was dotted thickly with pine trees of varying 
height. Every here and there, one of a different species 
rose forty or fifty feet clear above its neighbours, and 
which of these was the particular “ tall tree ” of Captain 
Flint could only be decided on the spot, and by the 
readings of the compass. 


260 


rREASURE ISLAND 


Yet, although that was tlie case, every man on board 
tlie boats had picked a favourite of his own ere we were 
half way over. Long John alone shrugging his slioulders 
and bidding them wait till they were there. 

We pulled easily, by Silver’s directions, not to weary 
the hands prematurely ; and, after quite a long passage, 
lauded at the mouth of the second river — that which 
runs down a woody cleft of the Spy-glass. Thence, 
bending to our left, we began to ascend the slope 
towards the plateau. 

At the first outset, heavy, miry ground and a matted, 
marish vegetation, greatly delayed our progress ; but by 
little and little the hill began to steepen and become 
stony under foot, and the wood to change its character 
and to grow in a more open order. It was, indeed, a 
most pleasant portion of the ishmd that we were now 
approaching. A heavy-scented broom and many How- 
eriiig shrubs had almost taken the place of grass. 
Thickets of green nutmeg trees were dotted here and 
there with the red columns and the broad shadow of the 
pines ; and the first mingled their spice with the aroma 
of the others. The air, besides, was fresh and stirring, 
and this, under the sheer sunbeams, was a wonderful 
refreshment to our senses. 

The party spread itself abroad, in a fan shape, shout- 
ing and leaping to and fro. About the centre, and a 
good way behind the rest, Silver and I followed — I 
tethered by my rope, he ploughing, with deep pants. 


THE TREASURE HUNT— FLINT’S POINTER 261 

among the sliding gravel. From time to time, indeed, 
1 had to lend him a hand, or he must have missed his 
footing and fallen backward down the hill. 

We had thus proceeded for about half a mile, and 
were approaching the brow of the plateau, when the 
man upon the farthest left began to cry aloud, as if in 
terror. Shout after shout came from him, and the 
others began to run in his direction. 

“ He can’t V found the treasure,” said old Morgan, 
hurrying past us from the right, *‘for that’s clean 
a-top.” 

Indeed, as we found when we also reached the spot, it 
was something very different. At the foot of a pretty 
big pine, and involved in a green creeper, which had 
even partly lifted some of the smaller bones, a human 
skeleton lay, with a few shreds of clothing, on the 
ground. I believe a chill struck for a moment to every 
heart. 

He was a seaman,” said George Merry, who, bolder 
than the rest, had gone up close, and was examining the 
rags of clothing. Leastways, this is good sea-cloth.” 

‘‘ Ay, ay,” said Silver, ‘Mike enough; you wouldn’t 
look to find a bishop here, I reckon. But what sort 
of a way is that for bones to lie ? ’Tain’t in natur’.” . 

Indeed, on a second glance, it seemed impossible to 
fancy that the body was in a natural position. But for 
some disarray (the work, perhaps, of the birds that had 
fed upon him, or of the slow-growing creeper that had 


262 


TREASURE ISLAND 


gradually enveloped his remains) the man lay perfectly 
straight — his feet pointing in one direction, his hands, 
raised above his head like a diver’s, pointing directly in 
the opposite. 

“ I’ve taken a notion into my old numskull,” ob- 
served Silver. “ Here’s the compass ; there’s the tip- 
top p’int o’ Skeleton Island, stickin’ out like a tooth. 
Just take a bearing, will you, along the line of them 
bones.” 

It was done. The body pointed straight in the 
direction of the island, and the compass read duly 
E.S.E. and by E. 

I thought so,” cried the cook ; “ this here is a 
p’inter. Eight up there is our line for the Pole Star 
and the jolly dollars. But, by thunder ! if it don’t 
make me cold inside to think of Flint. 'Phis is one of 
his jokes, and no mistake. Him and these six was alone 
here ; he killed ’em, every man ; and this one he hauled 
here and laid down by compass, shiver my timbers ! 
They’re long bones, and the hair’s been yellow. Ay, 
that would be Allardyce. You mind Allardyce, Tom 
Morgan ? ” 

“ Ay, ay,” returned Morgan, “ I mind him ; he owed 
me money, he did, and took my knife ashore with him.” 

“ Speaking of knives,” said another, why don’t we 
find his’n lying round ? Flint warn’t the man to pick 
a seaman’s pocket ; and the birds, I guess, would leave 
it be.” 


THE TREASURE HUNT — FLINT’S POINTER 26S 


By the powers, and that’s true ! ” cried Silver. 

There ain’t a thing left here,” said Merry, still feeh 
ing round among the hones, “ not a copper doit nor a 
baccy box. It don’t look nat’ral to me.” 

No, by gum, it don’t,” agreed Silver ; not nat’ral, 
nor not nice, says you. Great guns, messmates, but il 
Flint was living, this would be a hot spot for you and 
me. Six they were, and six are we ; and bones is what 
they are now.” 

“ I saw him dead with these here deadlights,” said 
Morgan. Billy took me in. There he laid, with 
penny-pieces on his eyes.” 

“ Dead — ay, sure enough he’s dead and gone below,” 
said the fellow with the bandage ; “ but if ever sperrit 
walked, it would be Flint’s. Dear heart, but he died 
bad, did Flint ! ” 

Ay, that he did,” observed another ; ‘‘ now he 
raged, and now he hollered for the rum, and now he 
sang. ^ Fifteen Men ’ were his only song, mates ; and I 
tell you true, I never rightly liked to hear it since. It 
was main hot, and the windy was open, and I hear that 
old song cornin’ out as clear as clear — and the death-haul 
oil the man already.” 

“ Come, come,” said Silver, stow this talk. He’s 
dead, and he don’t walk, that I know ; leastways, he 
won’t walk by day, and you may lay to that. Care 
killed a cat. Fetch ahead for the doubloons.” 

We started, certainly ; but in spite of the hot sun apd 


264 


TREASURE ISLAND 


the staring daylight, the pirates no longer ran separate 
and shouting through the wood, but kept side by side 
and spoke with bated breath, '^rhe terror of the dead 
buccaneer had fallen on their spirits. 


CHAPTER XXXIl 


THk TREASURE HUNT — THE VOICE AMONG THE TREES 

Partly from the damping influence of this alarm, 
partly to rest Silver and the sick folk, the whole party 
sat down as soon as they had gained the brow of the 
ascent. 

The plateau being somewhat tilted towards the west, 
this spot on which we had paused commanded a wide 
prospect on either hand. Before us, over the tree-tops, 
we beheld the Cape of the Woods fringed with surf ; 
behind, we not only looked down upon the anchorage 
and Skeleton Island, but saw — clear across the spit and 
the eastern lowlands — a great field of open sea upon the 
east. Sheer above us rose the Spy-glass, here dotted 
with single pines, there black with precipices. There 
was no sound but that of the distant breakers, mount- 
ing from all round, and the chirp of countless insects in 
the brush. Not a man, not a sail upon the sea ; the 
very largeness of the view increased the sense of solitude. 

Silver, as he sat, took certain bearings with his com- 
pass. 

There are three ‘ tall trees,^” said he, about in the 
right line from Skeleton Island. ‘ Spy-glass Shoulder, 


266 


TREASURE ISLAND 


I take it, means that lower p’int there. It’s child’s play 
to find the stuff now. I’ve half a mind to dine first.” 

“ I don’t feel sharp,” growled Morgan. Thinkin’ 
o’ Flint — I think it were — as done me. ” 

“ Ah, well, my son, you praise your stars he’s dead,” 
said Silver. 

^^He were an ugly devil,” cried .1. third pirate with 
a shudder ; that blue in the face, too ! ” 

‘^That was how the rum took him,” added Merry. 
** Blue! well, I reckon he was blue. That’s a true Avord.” 

Ever since they had found the skeleton and got upon 
this train of thought, they had spoken lower and lower, 
and they had almost got to whispering by now, so that 
the sound of their talk hardly interrupted the silence 
of the wood. All of a sudden, out of the middle of the 
trees in front of us, a thin, high, trembling voice 
struck up the well-known air and Avords : — 

“Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest — 

Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum !” 

I never have seen men more dreadfully affected than 
the pirates. The colour went from their six faces like 
enchantment ; some leaped to their feet, some clawed 
hold of others ; Morgan grovelled on the ground. 

It’s Flint, by I ” cried Merry. 

The song had stopped as suddenly as it began — 
broken off, you would have said, in the middle of a 
t^ote, as though someone had laid his hand upon the 


THE VOICE AMONG THE TEEES 


267 


singer’s mouth. Coming so far through the clear, sunny 
atmosphere among the green tree-tops, I thought it 
had sounded airily and sweetly ; and the effect on my 
companions was the stranger. 

Come,” said Silver, struggling with his ashen lips 
to get the word out, “ this won’t do. Stand by to go 
about. This is a rum start, and I can’t name the voice : 
but it’s someone skylarking — someone that’s flesh and 
blood, and you may lay to that.” 

His courage had come back as he spoke, and some of 
the colour to his face along with it. Already the others 
had begun to lend an ear to this encouragement, and 
were coming a little to themselves, when the same voice 
broke out again — not this time singing, but in a faint 
distant hail, that echoed yet fainter among the clefts of 
the Spy-glass. 

“ Darby M'Graw,” it wailed — for that is the word 
that best describes the sound — Darby M'Grawl Darby 
M^Graw !” again and again and again ; and then rising 
a little higher, and with an oath that I leave out, 
‘‘ Fetch aft the rum. Darby I ” 

The buccaneers remained rooted to the ground, their 
eyes starting from their heads. Long after the voice 
had died away they still stared in silence, dreadfully, 
before them. 

“That fixes it !” gasped one. “Let’s go.” 

“ They was his last words,” moaned Morgan, “ his 
last words above board.” 


268 


TREASURE ISLAND 


Dick had his Bible out, and was praying volubly. 
He had been well brought up, had Dick, before he came 
to sea and fell among bad companions. 

Still, Silver was unconquered. I could hear his teeth 
rattle in his head ; but he had not yet surrendered. 

“Nobody in this here island ever heard of Darby, 
he muttered : “ not one but us that’s here.” And then, 
making a great effort, “ Shipmates,” he cried, “ I’m 
here to get that stuff, and I’ll not be beat by man nor 
devil. I never was feared of Flint in his life, and, by 
the powers. I’ll face him dead. There’s seven hundred 
thousand pound not a quarter of a mile from here. 
When did ever a gentleman o’ fortune show his stern to 
that much dollars, for a boosy old seaman with a blue 
mug — and him dead, too ?” 

But there was no sign of re-awakening courage in his 
followers ; rather, indeed, of growing terror at the irrev- 
erence of his words. 

“Belay there, John ! ” said Merry. “ Don’t you cross 
a sperrit.” 

And the rest were all too terrified to reply. They 
would have run away severally had they dared ; but fear 
kept them together, and kept them close by John, as if 
his daring helped them. He, on his part, had pretty 
well fought his weakness down. 

“ Sperrit ? Well, maybe,” he said. “ But there’s 
one thing not clear to me. There was an echo. Now, 
no man ever seen a sperrit with a shadow ; well, then. 


THE VOICE AMONG THE TREES 


269 


what’s he doing with an echo to him, I should like to 
know ? That ain’t in natur’, surely ?” 

I’his argument seemed weak enough to me. But you 
can never tell what will affect the superstitious, and, to 
my wonder, George Merry was greatly relieved. 

‘‘Well, that’s so,” he said. “You’ve a head upon 
your shoulders, John, and no mistake. ’Bout ship, 
mates ! This here crew is on a wrong tack, I do 
believe. And come to think on it, it was like Flint’s 
voice, I grant you, but not just so clear-away like it, 
after all. It was liker somebody else’s voice now — it 
was liker ” 

“ By the powers, Ben Gunn ! ” roared Silver. 

“ Ay, and so it were,” cried Morgan, springing on 
his knees. “ Ben Gunn it were ! ” 

“ It don’t make much odds, do it, now ? ” asked Dick. 
“Ben Gunn’s not here in the body, any more’n Flint.” 

But the t)lder hands greeted this remark with scorn. 

“ Why nobody minds Ben Gunn,” cried Merry ; 
“ dead or alive, nobody minds him.” 

It was extraordinary how their spirits had returned, 
and how the natural colour had revived in their faces. 
Soon they were chatting together, with intervals of 
listening ; and not long after, hearing no further sound, 
they shouldered the tools and set forth again, Merry 
walking first with Silver’s compass to keep them on 
the right line with Skeleton Island. He had said the 
truth ; dead or alive, nobody minded Ben Gunn. 


270 


TREASURE ISLAOT) 


Dick alone still held his Bible, and looked around 
him as he went, with fearful glances ; hut he found no 
sympathy, and Silver even joked him on his precautions. 

“ I told you,” said he — ‘‘ I told you, you had sp’iled 
your Bible. If it ain’t no good to swear by, what do 
you suppose a sperrit would give for it? Not that!” 
and he snapped his big fingers, halting a moment on 
his crutch. 

But Dick was not to be comforted ; indeed, it was 
soon plain to me that the lad was falling sick ; hastened 
by heat, exhaustion, aud the shock of his alarm, the 
fever, predicted by Dr. Livesey, was evidently growing 
swiftly higher. 

It was fine open walking here, upon the summit ; 
our way lay a little down-hill, for, as I have said, the 
plateau tilted towards the west. The pines, great and 
small, grew wide apart : and even between the clumps 
of nutmeg and azalea, wide open spaces baked in the 
hot sunshine. Striking, as we did, pretty near north- 
west across the island, we drew, on the one hand, ever 
nearer under the shoulders of the Spy-glass, aud on the 
other, looked ever wider over that western bay where I 
had once tossed and trembled in the coracle. 

The first of the tall trees was reached, aud Dy the 
bearing, proved the wrong one. So with the second. 
The third rose nearly two hundred feet into the air 
above a clump of underwood ; a giant of a vegetable, 
with a red column as big as a cottage, and a wide 


THE VOICE AMONG THE TREES 


271 


shadow around in which a company could have ma^ 
noeu /red. It was conspicuous far to sea both on the 
east and west, and might have been entered as a sailing 
mark upon the chart. 

But it was not its size that now impressed my com- 
panions ; it was the knowledge that seven hundred 
thousand pounds in gold lay somewhere buried below its 
spreading shadow. The thought of the money, as they 
drew nearer, swallowed up their previous terrors. Their 
eyes burned in their heads ; their feet grew speedier 
and lighter ; their whole soul was bound up in that 
fortune, that whole lifetime of extravagance and pleas- 
ure, that lay waiting there for each of them. 

Silver hobbled, grunting, on his crutch ; his nostrils 
stood out and quivered ; he cursed like a madman when 
tlie flies settled on his hot and shiny countenance ; he 
plucked furiously at the line that held me to him, and, 
from time to time, turned his eyes upon me with a 
deadly look. Certainly he took no pains to hide his 
thoughts ; aricl certainly I read them like print. In the 
immediate nearness of the gold, all else had been for- 
gotten ; his promise and the doctor’s warning were botli 
things of the past ; and I could not doubt that he hoped 
to seize upon the treasure, find and board the Hispan- 
iola under cover of niglit, cut every honest throat 
about that island, and sail away as he had at first in- 
tended, laden with crimes and riches. 

Shaken as I was with these alarms, it was hard for 


272 


TEE A SURE ISLAND 


me to keep up with the rajiid pace of the treasure 
hunters. Now and again I stumbled ; and it was then 
that Silver plucked so roughly at the rope and launched 
at me his murderous glances. Dick, Avho had dropped 
behind us, and now brought up the rear, was babbling 
to himself both prayers and curses, as his fever kept 
rising. This also added to my wretchedness, and, to 
crown all, I was haunted by the thought of the tragedy 
that had once been acted on that plateau, when that 
ungodly buccaneer with the blue face — he who died at 
Savannah, singing and sliouting for drink — had there, 
with his own hand, cut down his six accomplices. This 
grove, that was now so peaceful, must then have rung 
with cries, I thought ; and even with the thought I 
could believe I heard it ringing still. 

We were now at the margin of the thicket. 

Huzza, mates, all together I shouted Merry ; and 
the foremost broke into a run. 

And suddenly, not ten yards further, we beheld them 
stop. A low cry arose. Silver doubled his pace, dig- 
ging aAvay with the foot of his crutch like one pos- 
sessed ; and next moment he and I had come also to a 
dead halt. 

Before us was a great excavation, not very recent, for 
the sides had fallen in and grass had sprouted on the 
bottom. In this were the shaft of a pick broken in 
two and the boards of several packing-cases strewn 
around. On one of these boards I saw, branded with 


THE VOICE AMONG THE TREES 


273 


a hot iron, the name Walrus — the name of Flint’s 
ship. 

All was clear to probation. The cache had been 
found and rifled : the seven hundred thousand pounds 
were gone I 

18 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


THE FALL OF A CHIEFTAIN 

There never was such an overturn in this world. 
Each of these six men was as though he had been 
struck. But with Silver the blow passed almost in- 
stantly. Every thought of his soul had been set full- 
stretch, like a racer, on that money ; well, he was 
brought up in a single second, dead ; and he kept his 
head, found his temper, aud changed his plan before 
the others had had time to realise the disappointment. 

Jim,” he whispered, “ take that, and stand by for 
trouble.” 

And he passed me a double-barrelled pistol. 

At the same time he began quietly moving northward, 
and in a few steps had put the hollow between us two 
and the other five. Then he looked at me and nodded, 
as much as to say, Here is a narrow corner,” as, 
indeed, I thought it was. His looks were now quite 
friendly; and I was so revolted at these constant changes, 
that I could not forbear whispering, So you’ve changed 
sides again.” 

There was no time left for him to answer in. The 
buccaneers, with oaths and cries, began to leap, one after 


THE FALL OF A CHIEFTAIN 


275 


another, into the pit, and to dig with their fingers, 
throwing the boards aside as they did so. Morgan 
found a piece of gold. He held it up with a perfect 
spout of oaths. It was a two-guinea piece, and it went 
from hand to hand among them for a quarter of a 
minute. 

“ Two guineas ! ” roared Merry, shaking it at Silver. 
’* Tliat’s your seven hundred thousand pounds, is it ? 
You’re the man for bargains, ain’t you ? You’re him 
that never bungled nothing, you wooden-headed 
lubber !” 

Dig away, boys,” said Silver, with the coolest in- 
solence ; you’ll find some pig-nuts and I shouldn’t 
wonder.” 

“ Pig-nuts ! ” repeated Merry, in a scream. Mates, 
do you hear that ? I tell you, now, that man there 
knew it all along. Look in the face of him, and you’ll 
see it wrote there.” 

“ Ah, Merry,’ remarked Silver, “ standing for cap’n 
again ? You’re a pushing lad, to be sure.” 

But this time everyone was entirely in Merry’s favour. 
They began to scramble out of the excavation, darting 
furious glances behind them. One thing I observed, 
which looked well for us : they all got out upon the 
opposite side from Silver. 

Well, there we stood, two on one side, five on the 
other, the pit between us, and nobody screwed up high 
enough to ofl'er the first blow. Silver never moved ; he 


276 


TREASURE ISLAND 


watched them, very upright on his crutch, and looked as 
cool as ever I saw him. He was brave and no mistake. 

At last. Merry seemed to think a speech might help 
matters. 

Mates, says he, there’s two of them alone there ; 
one’s the old cripple that brought us all here and 
blundered us down to this ; the other’s that cub that I 
mean to have the heart of. Now, mates ” 

He was raising his arm and his voice, and plainly 
meant to lead a charge. But just then — crack ! crack ! 
crack ! — three musket-shots flashed out of the thicket. 
Merry tumbled head foremost into the excavation ; the 
man with the bandage spun round like a teetotum, and 
fell all his length upon his side, where he lay dead, but 
still twitching ; and the other three turned and ran for 
it with all their might. 

Before you could wink. Long John had fired two bar- 
rels of a pistol into the struggling Merry ; and as the 
man rolled up his eyes at him in the last agony, 
“ George,” said he, I reckon I settled you.” 

At the same moment the doctor. Gray, and Ben Gunn 
joined us, with smoking muskets, from among the nut- 
meg trees. 

“ Forward ! ” cried the doctor. Double quick, my 
lads. We must head ’em off the boats.” 

And we set off at a great pace, sometimes plunging 
through the bushes to the chest. 

I tell you, but Silver was anxious to keep up with us. 


THE FALL OF A CHIEFTAIN 


277 


The work that man went through, leaping on his crutch 
till the muscles of his chest were fit to burst, was work 
no sound man ever equalled ; and so thinks the doctor. 
As it was, he was already thirty yards behind us, and on 
the verge of strangling, when we reached the brow of 
the slope. 

Doctor,” he hailed, see there ! no hurry !” 

Sure enough there was no hurry. In a more open 
part of the plateau, we could see the three survivors 
still running in the same direction as they had started, 
right for Mizzen-mast Hill. We v ^re already between 
them and the boats ; and so we four sat down to 
breathe, while Long John, mopping his face, came 
slowly up with us. 

“ Thank ye kindly, doctor,” says he. You came 
in in about the nick, I guess, for me and Hawkins. 
And so it’s you, Ben Gunn ! ” he added. “ Well, you’re 
a nice one to be sure.” 

I’m Ben Gunn, I am,” replied the maroon, wrig- 
gling like an eel in his embarrassment. ‘^And,” he 
added, after a long pause, “ how do, Mr. Silver ? 
Pretty well, I thank ye, says you.” 

“ Ben, Ben,” murmured Silver, to think as you’ve 
done me ! ” 

The doctor sent back Gray for one of the pickaxes, 
deserted, in their flight, by the mutineers; and then as 
we proceeded leisurely down hill to where the boats were 
lying, related, in a few words, what had taken place. 


278 


TREASURE ISLAND 


It was a story that profoundly interested Silver; and 
Ben Gunn, the half-idiot maroon, was the hero from 
beginning to end. 

Ben, in his long, lonely wanderings about the island, 
had found the skeleton — it was he that had rifled it ; 
he had found the treasure ; he had dug it up (it was 
the haft of his pickaxe that lay broken in the excava- 
tion) ; he had carried it on his back, in many weary 
journeys, from the foot of a tall pine to a cave he had 
on the two-pointed hill at the north-east angle of the 
island, and there x had lain stored in safety since two 
months before the ariival of the Hispaniola. 

When the doctor had wormed this secret from him, 
on the afternoon of the attack, and when, next morn- 
ing, he saw the anchorage deserted, he had gone to 
Silver, given him the chart, which was now useless — 
given him the stores, for Ben Gunn’s cave was well 
supplied with goats’ meat salted by himself — given any- 
thing and everything to get a chance of moving in safety 
from the stockade to the two-pointed hill, there to be 
clear of malaria and keep a guard upon the money. 

‘"As for you, Jim,” he said, “it went against my 
heart, but I did what I thought best for those who had 
stood by their duty ; and if you were not one of these, 
whose fault was it ? ” 

That morning, finding that I was to be involved in 
the horrid disappointment he had prepared for the muti- 
neers, he had run all the way to the cave, and, leaving 


THE FALL OP A CHIEFTAIN 


279 


squire to guard the captain, had taken Gray and the 
maroon, and started, making the diagonal across the 
island, to be at hand beside the pine. Soon, however, 
he saw that our party had the start of him ; and Ben 
Gunn, being fleet of foot, had been despatched in front 
to do his best alone. Then it had occurred to him to 
work upon the superstitions of his former shipmates ; 
and he was so far successful that Gray and the doctor 
had come up and were already ambushed before the 
arrival of the treasure-hunters. 

Ah," said Silver, “ it were fortunate for me that I 
had Hawkins here. You would have let old John be 
cut to bits, and never given it a thought, doctor." 

Not a thought," replied Dr. Livesey cheerily. 

And by this time we had reached the gigs. The 
doctor, with the pickaxe, demolished one of them, and 
then we all got aboard the other and set out to go round 
by sea for North Inlet. 

This was a run of eight or nine miles. Silver, though 
he was almost killed already with fatigue, was set to an 
oar, like the rest of us, and we were soon skimming 
swiftly over a smooth sea. Soon we passed out of the 
straits and doubled the south-east corner of the island, 
round which, four days ago, we had towed the His- 
paniola. 

As we passed the two-pointed hill, we could see the 
black mouth of Ben Gunn^s cave, and a figure standing 
by it, leaning on a musket. It was the squire ; and 


280 


TEEASURE ISLAND 


we waved a handkerchief and gave him three cheers, 
in which the voice of Silver joined as heartily as 
any. 

Three miles farther, just inside the mouth of North 
Inlet, what should we meet but the Hispaniola, cruis- 
ing by herself ? The last flood had lifted her ; and had 
there been much wind, or a strong tide current, as in 
the southern anchorage, we should never have found 
her more, or found her stranded beyond help. As it 
was, there was little amiss, beyond the wreck of the 
mainsail. Another anchor was got ready, and dropped 
in a fathom and a half of water. AVe all pulled round 
again to Rum Cove, the nearest point for Ben Gunn’s 
treasure-house ; and then Gray, single-handed, returned 
with the gig to the Hispaniola, where he was to pass 
the night on guard. 

A gentle slope- ran up from the beach to the entrance 
of the cave. At the top, the squire met us. To me he 
was cordial and kind, saying nothing of my escapade, 
either in the way of blame or praise. At Silver’s polite 
salute he somewhat flushed. 

John Silver,” he said, '^you’re a prodigious villain 
and impostor — a monstrous impostor, sir. I am told I 
am not to prosecute you. AVell, then, I will not. But 
the dead men, sir, hang about your neck like mill- 
stones.” 

“ Thank you kindly, sir,” replied Long John, again 
saluting. 


THE FALL OF A CHIEFTAIN 


281 


* 1 dare you to thank me ! ” cried the squire. “ It 
is a gross dereliction of my duty. Stand back.” 

And thereupon we all entered the cave. It was a 
large, airy place, with a little spring and a pool of clear 
water, overhung with ferns. The floor was sand. Be- 
fore a big fire lay Captain Smollett ; and in a far corner, 
only duskily flickered over by the blaze, I beheld great 
heaps of coin and quadrilaterals built of bars of gold. 
That w'as Flint’s treasure that we had come so far to 
seek, and that had cost already the lives of seventeeu 
men from the Hispaniola. How many it had cost in 
the amassing, what blood and sorrow, what good ships 
scuttled on the deep, what brave men walking the plank 
blindfold, what shot of cannon, what shame and lies and 
cruelty, perhaps no man alive could tell. Yet there 
were still three upon that island — Silver, and old Mor- 
gan, and Ben Gunn — who had each taken his share in 
these crimes, as each had Loped in vain to share in the 
reward. 

“Come in, Jim,” said the captain. “You’re a good 
boy in ycur line, Jim ; but I don’t think you and me’ll 
go to sea again. You’re too much of the born favourite 
for me. Is that you, John Silver ? What brings you 
here, man ? ” 

“ Come back to my dooty, sir,” returned Silver. 

“ Ah ! ” said the captain ; and that was all he said. 

What a supper I had of it that night, Avith all my 
friends around me ; and what a meal it was, with Ben 


282 


TREASURE ISLAND 


Gunn’s salted goat, and some delicacies and a bottle of 
old wine from the Hispaniola. Never, 1 am sure, were 
■people gayer or happier. And there was Silver, sitting 
back almost out of the firelight, but eating heartily, 
prompt to spring forward when anything was wanted, 
even joining quietly in our laughter — the same blandi 
polite, obsequious seaman of the voyage out. 


CHAPTER XXXIV 


AND LAST 

The next morning we fell early to work, for th3 
transportation of this great mass of gold near a mik 
by land to the beach, and thence three miles by boat 
to the Hispaniola, was a considerable task for so 
small a number of workmen. The three fellows still 
abroad upon the island did not greatly trouble us ; a 
single sentry on the shoulder of the hill was sufficient 
to insure us against any sudden onslaught, and we 
thought, besides, they had had more than enough of 
fighting. 

Therefore the work was pushed on briskly. Gray 
and Ben Gunn came and went with the boat, while 
the rest, during their absences, piled trea ure on the 
beach. Two of the bars, slung in a rope’, end, made 
a good load for a grown man — one that h ) was glad 
to walk slowly with. For my part, as I was not much 
use at carrying. I was kept busy all day in the cave, 
packing the minted money into bread-bags. 

It was a strange collection, like Billy Bones’s hoard for 
the diversity of coinage, but so much larger and so much 
more varied that I think I never had more pleasure than 


284 


TREASURE ISLAND 


in sorting them. English, French, Spanish, Portuguestr, 
Georges, and Louises, doubloons and double guineas and 
moidores and sequins, the pictures of all the kings of 
Europe for the last hundred years, strange Oriental 
pieces stamped with what looked like wisps of string 
or hits of spider’s web, round pieces and square pieces, 
and pieces bored through the middle, as if to wear them 
round your n#ck — nearly every variety of money in the 
world must, I think, have found a place in that col- 
lection ; and for number, I am sure they were like 
autumn leaves, so that my back ached with stooping 
and my fingers with sorting them out. 

Day after day this work went on; by every evening 
a fortune had been stowed aboard, but there was an- 
other fortune waiting for the morrow ; and all this time 
we heard nothing of the three surviving mutineers. 

x\t last — I think it was on the third night — the doc- 
tor and I were strolling on the shoulder of the hill 
where it overlooks the lowlands of the isle, when, from 
out the thi^k darkness below, the wind brought us a 
noise betw en shrieking and singing. It was only a 
snatch tha reached our ears, followed by the former 
silence. 

Heaven forgive them,” said the doctor ; ’tis the 
mutineers ! ” 

“ All drunk, sir,” struck in the voice of Silver from 
behind us. 

Silver, I should say, was allowed his entire liberty, 


CHAPTER LAST 


285 


and, in spite of daily rebuffs, seemed to regard himself 
once more as quite a privileged and friendly dependant. 
Indeed, it was remarkable how well he bore these 
slights, and with what unwearying politeness he kept 
on trying to ingratiate himself with all. Yet, I think, 
none treated him better than a dog ; unless it was Ben 
Guuii, who was still terribly afraid of his old quarter- 
master, or myself, who had really something to thank 
him for ; although for that matter, I suppose, I had 
reason to think even worse of him than anybody else, 
for I had seen him meditating a fresh treachery upon 
the plateau. Accordingly, it was pretty grufiiy that 
the doctor answered him. 

“ Drunk or raving,” said he. 

“ Right you were, sir,” replied Silver ; and precious 
little odds which, to you and me.” 

“ 1 suppose you would hardly ask me to call you a 
humane man,” returned the doctor with a sneer, “ and 
so my feelings may surprise you. Master Silver. But if 
I were sure they were raving — as I am morally certain 
one, at least, of them is down with fever — I should 
leave this camp, and, at whatever risk to my own 
carcase, take them the assistance of my skill.” 

“ Ask your pardon, sir, you would be very wrong,” 
quoth Silver. “You would lose your precious life, 
and you may lay to that. I’m on your side now, hand 
and glove ; and I shouldn’t wish for to see the party 
weakened, let alone yourself, seeing as I know what 1 


286 


TKEASURE ISLAND 


owes you. But these men down there, they couldn^t 
keep their word — no, not supposing they wished to ; 
and what’s more, they couldn’t believe as you could.” 

^‘No,” said the doctor. “You’re the man to keep 
your word, we know that.” 

Well, that was about the last news we had of the 
three pirates. Only once we heard a gunshot a great 
way off, and supposed them to be hunting. A council 
was held, and it was decided that we must desert them 
on the island — to the huge glee, I must say, of Ben 
Gunn, and with the strong approval of Gray. We left 
a good stock of powder and shot, the bulk of the salt 
goat, a few medicines, and some other necessaries, tools, 
clothing, a spare sail, a fathom or two of rope, and, by 
the particular desire of the doctor, a handsome present 
of tobacco. 

That was about our last doing on the island. Before 
that, we had got the treasure stowed, and had shipped 
enough water and the remainder of the goat meat, in 
case of any distress ; and at last, one fine morning, we 
weighed anchor, which was about all that we could 
manage, and stood out of North Inlet, the same colours 
flying that the captain had flown and fought under at 
the palisade. 

The three fellows must have been watching us closer 
than we thought for, as we soon had proved. For, com- 
ing through the narrows, we had to lie very near the 
southern point, and there we saw all three of them 


CHAPTER LAST 


287 


kneeling together on a spit of sand, with their arms 
raised in supplication. It went to all our hearts, I 
think, to leave them in that wretched state ; but we 
could not risk another mutiny ; and to take them home 
for the gibbet would have been a cruel sort of kindness. 
The doctor hailed them and told them of the stores we 
had left, and where they were to find them. But they 
continued to call us by name, and appeal to us, for 
God’s sake, to be merciful, and not leave them to die 
in such a place. 

At last, seeing the ship still bore on her course, and 
was now swiftly drawing out of earshot, one of them — 
i know not which it was — leapt to his feet with a hoarse 
cry, whipped his musket to his shoulder, and sent a 
shot whistling over Silver’s head and through the main- 
sail. 

After that^ we kept under cover of the bulwarks, 
and when next I looked out they had disappeared 
from the spit, and the spit itself had almost melted 
out of sight in the growing distance. That was, at 
ieast, the end of that ; and before noon, to my inex- 
nressible joy, the highest rock of Treasure Island had 
sunk into the blue round of sea. 

We were so short of men that everyone on board had 
to bear a hand — only the captain lying on a mattress 
in the stern and giving his orders ; for, though greatly 
recovered, he was still in want of quiet. We laid her 
head for the nearest port in Spanish America, for we 


288 


TREASURE ISLAND 


could not risk the vovage home without fresh hands ; 
ana’ as ii- was, wnat with baffling winds and a couple of 
fresh gales, we were all worn out before we reached it. 

It was just at sundown when we cast anchor in a 
most beautiful land-locked gulf, and were immediately 
surrounded by shore boats full of negroes, and Mexican 
Indians, and half-bloods, selling fruits and vegetables, 
and offering to dive for bits of money. The sight of 
so many good-humoured faces (especially the blacks), 
the taste of the tropical fruits, and above all, the 
lights that began to shine in the town, made a most 
charming contrast to our dark and bloody sojourn on 
the island ; and the doctor and the squire, taking me 
along with them, went ashore to pass the early part of 
the night. Here they met the captain of an English 
man-of-war, fell in talk with him, Avent on board his 
ship, and, in short, had so agreeable a time, that day 
was breaking when we came alongside the Hispaniola. 

Ben Gunn was on deck alone, and, as soon as we 
came on board, he began, with wonderful contortions, 
to make us a confession. Silver was gone. The 
maroon had connived at his escape in a shore boat 
some hours ago, and he now assured us he had only 
done so to preserve our lives, which would certainly 
have been forfeit if that man with the one leg had 
stayed aboard.” But this Avas not all. The sea cook 
had not gone empty handed. He had cut through a 
bulkhead unobserved, and had removed one of the 


CHAPTER LAST 


289 


sacks of coin, worth, perhaps, three or four hundred 
guineas, to help him on his further wanderings. 

I think we were all pleased to be so cheaply quit of 
him. 

Well, to make a long story short, we got a few 
hands on board, made a good cruise home, and the 
Hispaniola reached Bristol just as Mr. Blandly was 
beginning to think of fitting out her consort. Five 
men only of those who had sailed returned with her. 
“ Drink and the devil had done lor the rest,^^ with a 
vengeance ; although, to be sure, we were not quite 
in so bad a case as that other ship they sang about; 

“With one man of her crew alive, 

What put to sea with seventy-five.” 

All of US had an ample share of the treasure, and 
used it wisely or foolishly, according to our natures. 
Captain Smollett is now retired from the sea. Gray not 
only saved his money, but, being suddenly smit with 
the desire to rise, also studied his profession; and he is 
now mate and part owner of a fine full-rigged ship ; 
married besides, and the father of a family. As for 
]?en Gunn, he got a thousand pounds, which he spent 
or lost in three weeks, or, to be more exact, in nineteen 
days, for ho was back begging on the twentieth. Then 
he was given a lodge to keep, exactly as he had feared 
upon the island ; and he still lives, a great favourite, 
19 . _ 


290 


TREASURE ISLAND 


though something of a butt, with the country boys, and 
a notable singer in church on Sundays and saints’ days. 

Of Silver we have heard no more. That formidable 
seafaring man with one leg has at last gone clean out of 
my life ; but I daresay he met his old negress, and per- 
haps still lives in comfort with her and Captain Flint. 
It is to be hoped so, I suppose, for his chances of com- 
fort in another world are very small. 

The bar silver and the arms still lie, for all that I 
know, where Flint buried them ; and certainly they 
shall lie there for me. Oxen and wain-ropes would not 
bring me back again to that accursed island ; and the 
worst dreams that ever I have are when I hear the surf 
booming about its coasts, or start upright in bed, with 
the sharp voice of Captain Flint still ringing in my 
ears : P^ces of eight ! pieces of eight I ” 


THE BLACK ARROW 

A TALE OF TWO ROSES 






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1 


Critic on the Hearth, 

No one but myself knows what I have suffered, nor 
what my books have gained, by your unsleeping watchfulness 
and admirable pertinacity. And now here is a volume that 
goes into the world and lacks your imprimatur : a strange thing 
in our joint lives ; and the reason of it stranger still ! 1 have 
watched with interest, with pain, and at length with amuse- 
ment, your unavailing attempts to peruse The Black Arrow ; 
and I think I should lack humour indeed, if I let the occasion 
slip and did not place your name in the fly-leaf of the only 
book of mine that you have never read — and never will read. 

That others may display more constancy is still my hope. 
The tale was written years ago for a particular audience and 
(I may say) in rivalry with a particular author; I think I 
should do well to name him, Mr. Alfred R. Phillips. It was 
not without its reward at the time. I could not, indeed, dis- 
place Mr. Phillips from his well-won priority ; but in the eyes 
of readers who thought less than nothing of Treasure Island, 
The Black Arrow was supposed to mark a clear advance. 
Those who read volumes and those who read story papers be- 
long to different worlds. The verdict on Treasure Island was 
reversed in the other court ; I wonder, will it be the same with 
its successor? 

R. L S. 


UAUAtUdO liAn, April St 1688. 


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^ 'I 


THE BLACK ARROW: 


A TALE OF THE TWO ROSES. 


PKOLOGUE. 

JOHN AMEND-AIX. 

On a certain afternoon, in the late springtime, the bell 
upon Tunstall Moat House was heard ringing at an unac- 
customed hour. Far and near, in the forest and in the 
fields along the river, people began to desert their labours 
and hurry towards the sound ; and in Tunstall hamlet a 
group of poor country-folk stood wondering at the sum- 
mons. 

Tunstall hamlet at that period, in the reign of old King 
Henry VI., wore much the same appearance as it wears to- 
day. A score or so of houses, heavily framed with oak, 
stood scattered in a long green valley ascending from the 
river. At the foot, the road crossed a bridge, and mount- 
ing on the other side, disappeared into the fringes of the 
fprest on its way to the Moat House, and further forth to 


2 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


Holywood Abbey. Half-way up the village, the church 
stood among yews. On every side the slopes were 
crowned and the view bounded by the green elms and 
greening oak-trees of the forest. 

Hard by the bridge, there was a stone cross upon a 
knoll, and here the group had collected — half a dozen 
women and one tall fellow in a russet smock — discussing 
what the bell betided. An express had gone through the 
hamlet half an hour before, and drunk a pot of ale in the 
saddle, not daring to dismount for the hurry of his errand ; 
but he had been ignorant himself of what was forward, 
and only bore sealed letters from Sir Daniel Brackley to 
Sir Oliver Oates, the parson, who kept the Moat House in 
the master’s absence. 

But now there was the noise of a horse ; and soon, out 
of the edge of the wood and over the echoing bridge, there 
rode up young Master Richard Shelton, Sir Daniel’s ward. 
He, at the least, would know, and they hailed him and 
begged him t6 explain! He drew bridle willingly enough 
— a young fellow not yet eighteen, sun-browned and grey- 
eyed, in a jacket of deer’s leather, with a black velvet col- 
lar, a green hood upon his head, and a steel cross-bow at 
his back. The express, it appeared, had brought great 
news. A battle was impending. Sir Daniel had sent for 
every man that could draw a bow or carry a bill to go post- 
haste to Kettley, under pain of his severe displeasure ; but 
for whom they were to fight, or of where the battle was 
expected, Dick knew nothing.' Sir Oliver would come 


JOHN AMEND-ALL. 


3 


shortly himself, and Bennet Hatch was arming at that 
moment, for he it was who should lead the party. 

“ It is the ruin of this kind land,” a woman said. “ If 
the barons live at war, ploughfolk must eat roots.” * 
“Nay,” said Dick, “every man that follows shall have 
sixpence a day, and archers twelve. ” 

“ If they live,” returned the woman, “ that may very well 
be ; but how if they die, my master ? ” 

“ They cannot better die than for their natural lord,” 
said Dick. 

“ No natural lord of mine,” said the man in the smock. 
“ I followed the Walsinghams ; so we all did down Brierly 
way, till two years ago, come Candlemas. And now I 
must side with Brackley ! It was the law that did it ; call 
ye that natural ? But now, what with Sir Daniel and what 
with Sir Oliver — that knows more of law than honesty — 
I have no natural lord but poor King Harry the Sixt, God 
bless him ! — the poor innocent that cannot tell his right 
hand from his left.” 

“Ye speak with an ill tongue, friend,” answered Dick, 
“ to miscaU your good master and my lord the king in the 
same libel. But King Harry — praised be the saints ! — 
has come again into his right mind, and will have all 
things peaceably ordained. And as for Sir Daniel, y’ are 
very brave behind his back. But I will be no tale-bearer ; 
and let that suffice.” ' 

“I say no harm of you. Master Richard,” returned the 
peasant. “ Y* are a lad ; but when ye come to a man’s 


4 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


inches, ye will find ye have an empty pocket. I say no 
more : the saints help Sir Daniel’s neighbours, and the 
Blessed Maid protect his wards ! ” 

“Clipsby,” said Richard, “you speak what I cannot 
hear with honour. Sir Daniel is my good master, and my 
guardian.” 

“ Gome, now, will ye read me a riddle ? " returned 
Clipsby. “ On whose side is Sir Daniel ? ” 

“ I know not,” said Dick, colouring a little ; for his 
guardian had changed sides continually in the troubles of 
that period, and every change had brought him some in- 
crease of fortune. 

“ Ay,” returned Clipsby, “ you, nor no man. For, in- 
deed, he is one that goes to bed Lancaster and gets up 
York.” 

Just then the bridge rang under horse-shoe iron, and 
the party turned and saw Bennet Hatch come galloping — 
a brown-faced, grizzled fellow, heavy of hand and grim of 
mien, armed with sword and spear, a steel salet on his 
head, a leather jack upon his body. He was a great man 
in these parts ; Sir Daniel’s right hand in peace and war, 
and at that time, by his master’s interest, bailiff of the 
hundred. 

“Clipsby,” he shouted, “off to the Moat House, and 
send all other laggards the same gate. Bowyer will give 
you jack and salet. We must ride before cm’few. Look 
to it : he that is last at the lych-gate Sir Daniel shall re- 
ward. Look to it right well \ 1 know you for a man of 


JOHN a:viend-all. 


6 


naught. Nance,” he added, to one of the women, “ is old 
Appleyard up town ? ” 

“I’ll warrant you,” replied the woman. “In his field, 
for sure.” 

So the group dispersed, and while Clipsby walked leis- 
urely over the bridge, Bennet and young Shelton rode up 
the road together, through the village and past the 
church. 

“ Ye will see the old shrew,” said Bennet. “ He will 
waste more time grumbling and prating of Harry the 
Fift than would serve a man to shoe a horse. And all 
because he has been to the French wars ! ” 

The house to which they were bound was the last in the 
village, standing alone among lilacs ; and beyond it, on 
three sides, there was open meadow rising towards the 
borders of the wood. 

Hatch dismounted, threw his rein over the fence, and 
walked down the field, Dick keeping close at his elbow, to 
where the old soldier was digging, knee-deep in his cab- 
bages, and now and again, in a cracked voice, singing a 
snatch of song. He was aU dressed in leather, only his 
hood and tippet were of black frieze, and tied with scar- 
let ; his face was like a walnut-shell, both for colour and 
wrinkles ; but his old grey eye was still clear enough, and 
his sight unabated. Perhaps he was deaf ; perhaps he 
thought it unworthy of an old archer of Agincourt to pay 
any heed to such disturbances ; but neither the surly 
notes of the alarm bell, nor the near approach of Bennet 


6 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


and the lad, appeared at all to move him ; and he con- 
tinued obstinately digging, and piped up, very thin and 
shaky ; 

“ Now, dear lady, if thy will be, 

' 1 I pray you that you will rue on me.” 

> “Nick Appleyard,” said Hatch, “Sir Oliver commends 
him to you, and bids that ye shall come within this liour 
to the Moat House, there to take command.” 

>1 The old fellow looked up. 

f‘i“Save you, my masters 1 ” he said, grinning. “And 
where goeth Master Hatch ? ” 

“ Master Hatch is off to Kettley, with every man that 
we cant horse,” returned Bennet. “There is a fight to- 
ward, it seems, and my lord stays a reinforcement.” 

“Ay, verily,” returned Appleyard. “And what will ye 
leave me to garrison withal ? ” 

“ I leave you six good men, and Sir Oliver to boot,” an- 
swered Hatch. 

“ It’ll not hold the place,” said Aj)pleyard ; “ the num- 
ber sufficeth not. It would take two score to make it 
good.” 

“ Why, it’s for that we came to you, old shrew ! ” re- 
plied the other. “ Who else is there but you that could 
do aught in such a house with such a garrison ? ” 

“ Ay ! when the pinch comes, ye remember the old 
shoe,” returned Nick. “ There is not a man of you can 
back a horse or hold a bill ; and as for archery — St 


JOHN AMEND-ALL. 


7 


Michael! if old Harry the Fift were back again, he 
would stand and let ye shoot at him for a farthen a 
shoot ! ” 

“ Nay, Nick, there’s some can draw a good bow yet,” 
said Bennet. 

“ Draw a good bow ! ” cried Appleyard. “ Yes ! But 
who’ll shoot me a good shoot ? It’s there the eye comes 
in, and the head between your shoulders. Now, what 
might you call a long shoot, Bennet Hatch ? ” 

“Well,” said Bennet, looking about him, “it would be 
a long shoot from here into the forest.” 

“ Ay, it would be a longish shoot,” said the old fellow, 
turning to look over his shoulder ; and then he put up 
his hand over his eyes, and stood staring. 

“ Why, what are you looking at ? ” asked Bennet, with 
a chuckle. “ Do you see Harry the Fift ? ” * 

The veteran continued looking up the hill in silence. 
The sun shone broadly over the shelving meadows ; a few 
white sheep wandered browsing ; all was still but the dis- 
tant jangle of the bell. ' 

“ What is it, Appleyard ?” asked Dick. > ; i ! 

“ Why, the birds,” said Appleyard. 

And, sure enough, over the top of the forest, where it 
ran down in a tongue among the meadows, and ended in 
a pair of goodly green elms, about a bowshot from the 
field where they were standing, a flight of birds was skim* 
ming to and fro, in evident disorder. 

“ What of the birds ? ” said Bennei 


8 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


*‘Ay!” returned Appleyard, “y’ are a wise man to gc 
to war, Master Bennet. Birds are a good sentry ; in 
forest places they be the first line of battle. Look you, 
now, if we lay here in camp, there might be archers 
skulking down to get the wind of us; and here would 
you be, none the wiser ! ” 

“Why, old shrew,” said Hatch, “there be no men 
nearer us than Sir Daniel’s, at Kettley ; y’ are as safe as 
in London Tower ; and ye raise scares upon a man for a 
few chaffinches and sparrows ! ” 

“ Hear him ! ” grinned Appleyard. “ How many a rogue 
would give his two crop ears to have a shoot at either of 
us ? Saint Michael, man ! they hate us like two pole- 
cats ! ’’ 

“Well, sooth it is, they hate Sir Daniel,” answered 
Hatch, a little sobered. 

“ Ay, they hate Sir Daniel, and they hate every man 
that serves with him,” said Appleyard ; “and in the first 
order of hating, they hate Bennet Hatch and old Nicholas 
the bowman. See ye here : if there was a stout fellow 
yonder in the wood-edge, and you and I stood fair for 
him — as, by Saint George, we stand ! — which, think ye, 
would he choose ? ” 

“ You, for a good wager,” answered Hatch. 

“ My surcoat to a leather belt, it would be you ! ” cried 
the old archer. “Ye burned Grimstone, Bennet — they’ll 
ne’er forgive you that, my master. And as for me. I’ll 
soon be in a good place, God grant, and out of bow- 


JOHN AMEND-ALL. 


9 


shoot — ay, and cannon-shoot — of all their malices. ] 
am an old man, and draw fast to homeward, where 
the bed is ready. But for you, Bennet, y’ are to remain 
behind here at your own peril, and if ye come to my 
years unhanged, the old true-blue English spirit will be 
dead.” 

“ Y’ are the shrewishest old dolt in Tunstall Forest,” 
returned Hatch, visibly ruffled by these threats. “Get 
ye to your arms before Sir Oliver come, and leave prating 
for one good while. An ye had talked so much with 
Harry the Fift, his ears would ha’ been richer than his 
pocket” 

An arrow sang in the air, like a huge hornet ; it struck 
old Appleyard between the shoulder-blades, and pierced 
him clean through, and he fell forward on his face among 
the cabbages. Hatch, with a broken cry, leapt into the 
air ; then, stooping double, he ran for the cover of the 
house. And in the meanwhile Dick Shelton had dropped 
behind a lilac, and had his crossbow bent and shouldered, 
covering the point of the forest 

Not a leaf stirred. The sheep were patiently browsing ; 
the birds had settled. But there lay the old man, with 
a cloth-yard arrow standing in his back ; and there were 
Hatch holding to the gable, and Dick crouching and 
ready behind the lilac bush. 

“ D’ye see aught ? ” cried Hatch. 

“ Not a twig stirs,” said Dick. 

“ I think shame to leave him lying,” said Bennet, com* 


10 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


ing forward once more with hesitating steps and a very 
pale countenance. “ Keep a good eye on the wood, Mas- 
ter Shelton — keep a clear eye on the wood. The saints 
assoil us ! here was a good shoot ! ” 

Bennet raised the old archer on his knee. He was not 
yet dead ; his face worked, and his eyes shut and opened 
like machinery, and he had a most horrible, ugly look of 
one in pain. 

“ Can ye hear, old Nick ? ” asked Hatch. “ Have ye a 
last wish before ye wend, old brother ? ” 

“Pluck out the shaft, and let me pass, a’ Mary’s 
name !” gasped Appleyard. “I be done with Old Eng- 
land. Pluck it out ! ” 

“ Master Dick,” said Bennet, “ come hither, and pull 
me a good pull upon the arrow. He would fain pass, the 
poor sinner.” 

Dick laid down his cross-bow, and pulling hard upcn 
the arrow, drew it forth. A gush of blood followed ; the 
old archer scrambled half upon his feet, called once upon 
the name of God, and then fell dead. Hatch, upon his 
knees among the cabbages, prayed fervently for the wel- 
fare of the passing spirit. But even as he prayed, it was 
plain that his mind was still divided, and he kept ever an 
eye upon the corner of the wood from which the shot had 
come. When he had done, he got to his feet again, drew 
off one of his mailed gauntlets, and wiped his pale face, 
which was all wet with terror. 

“ Ay,” he said, “ it’ll be my turn nexi” 


JOHN AMEND-ALL. 


It 


“ Who hath done this, Bennet ? ” Richard asked, still 
holding the arrow in his hand. 

“ Nay, the saints know,” said Hatch. “ Here are a 
good two score Christian souls that we have hunted out 
of house and holding, he and I. He has paid his shot, 
poor shrew, nor will it be long, mayhap, ere I pay mine. 
Sir Daniel driveth over- hard.” 

“ This is a strange shaft,” said the lad, looking at the 
arrow in his hand. 

“Ay, by my faith ! ” cried Bennet. “ Black, and black- 
feathered. Here is an ill-favoured shaft, by my sooth ! 
for black, they say, bodes burial. And here be words 
written. Wipe the blood away. What read ye ? ” 

“ ‘ Appulyaird fro Jon Amend-All,’ ” . read Shelton. 
“ What should this betoken ? ” 

“ Nay, I like it not,” returned the retainer, shaking his 
head. “ John Amend-All ! Here is a rogue’s name for 
those that be up in the world ! But why stand we here 
to make a mark ? Take him by the knees, good Master 
Shelton, while I lift him by the shoulders, and let us lay 
him in his house. This will be a rare shog to poor Sir 
Oliver ; he will turn paper colour ; he will pray like a 
windmill.” 

They took up the old archer, and carried him between 
them into his house, where he had dwelt alone. And 
there they laid him on the floor, out of regard for the 
mattress, and sought, as best they might, to straighten 
and compose his limbs. 


12 


THE BLACK ARBOW. 


Appleyard’s house was clean and bare. There was d 
bed, with a blue cover, a cupboard, a great chest, a pair 
of joint-stools, a hinged table in the chimney corner, and 
hung upon the wall the old soldier’s armoury of bows and 
defensive armour. Hatch began to look about him curi- 
ously. ii 

“ Nick had money,” he said. “He may have had three 
score pounds put by. I would I could light upon ’t ! 
When ye lose an old friend. Master Richard, the best con- 
solation is to heir him. See, now, this chest. I would 
go a mighty wager there is a bushel of gold therein. He 
had a strong hand to get, and a hard hand to keep withal, 
had Appleyard the archer. Now may God rest his spirit I 
Near eighty year he was afoot and about, and ever get- 
ting ; but now he’s on the broad of his back, poor shrew, 
and no more lacketh ; and if his chattels came to a good 
friend, he would be merrier, methinks, in heaven.” 

“Come, Hatch,” said Dick, “respect his stone-blind 
eyes. Would ye rob the man before his body ? Nay, ho 
would walk ! ” 

Hatch made several signs of the cross ; but by this 
time his natural complexion had returned, and he was not 
easily to be dashed from any purpose. It would have 
gone hard with the chest had not the gate sounded, and 
presently after the door of the house opened and ad- 
mitted a tall, portly, ruddy, black-eyed man of near fifty, 
in a surplice and black robe. 

“Appleyard ” the newcomer was saying, as he ei> 


JOHN AMEND-ALL, 


13 


tered ; but he stopped dead. “ Ave Maria ! ” he cried. 
“ Saints be our shield ! What cheer is this ? ” 

“Cold cheer with Appleyard, sir parson,” answered 
Hatch, with perfect cheerfulness. “ Shot at his own 
door, and alighteth even now at purgatory gates. Ay I 
there, if tales be true, he shall lack neither coal nor candle.” 

Sir Oliver groped his way to a joint-stool, and sat down 
upon it, sick and white. 

“ This is a judgment ! O, a great stroke ! ” he sobbed, 
and rattled off a leash of prayers. 

Hatch meanwhile reverently doffed his salet and knelt 
down. 

“Ay, Bennet,” said the priest, somewhat recovering, 
“ and what may this be ? What enemy hath done this ? ” 

“ Here, Sir Oliver, is the arrow. See, it is written upon 
with words,” said Dick. 

“ Nay,” cried the priest, “ this is a foul hearing ! John 
Amend-All ! A right Lollardy word. And black of hue, 
as for an omen ! Sirs, this knave arrow likes me not. But 
it importeth rather to take counsel. Who should this 
be ? Bethink you, Bennet. Of so many black ill-willers, 
which should he be that doth so hardily outface us? 
Simnel? I do much question it. The Walsinghams? 
Nay, they are not yet so broken ; they still think to have 
the law over us, when times change. There was Simon 
Malmesbury, too. How think ye, Bennet ? ” 

“What think ye, sir,” returned Hatch, “of Ellis 
Duckworth ? ” 


14 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


“Nay, Bennet, never. Nay, not he,” said, the priest 
“ There cometh never any rising, Bennet, from below — so 
all judicious chroniclers concord in their opinion ; but re- 
bellion travelleth ever downward from above ; and when 
Dick, Tom, and H^ry take them to their bills, look ever 
narrowly to see what lord is profited thereby. Now, Sir 
Daniel, having once more joined him to the Queen’s 
party, is in ill odour with the Yorkist lords. Thence, 
Bennet, comes the blow — by what procuring, I yet seek ; 
but therein lies the nerve of this discomfiture.” 

“Au’t please you. Sir Oliver,” said Bennet, “the axles 
are so hot iu this country that I have long been smelling 
fire. So did this poor sinner, Appleyard. And, by your 
leave, men’s spirits are so foully inclined to all of us, that 
it needs neither York nor Lancaster to spur them on. 
Hear my plain thoughts : You, that are a clerk, and Sir 
Daniel, that sails on any wind, ye have taken many men’s 
goods, and beaten and hanged not a few. Y’ are called to 
count for this ; in the end, I wot not how, ye have ever 
the uppermost at law, and ye think all patched. But give 
me leave. Sir Oliver : the man that ye have dispossessed 
and beaten is but the angrier, and some day, when the 
black devil is by, he will up with his bow and clout me a 
yard of arrow through your inwards.” 

“ Nay, Bennet, y’ are in the wrong. Bennet, ye should 
be glad to be corrected,” said Sir Oliver. “Y’ are a 
prater, Bennet, a talker, a babbler ; your mouth is widel 
than your two ears. Mend it, Bennet, mend it.” 


JOHN AMEND-ALL. 


15 


“ Nay, I say no more. Have it as ye list,” said the re- 
tainer. 

The priest now rose from the stool, and from the writ- 
ing-case that hung about his neck took forth wax and a 
taper, and a flint and steel. With these he sealed up the 
chest and the cupboard with Sir Daniel’s arms. Hatch 
looking on disconsolate ; and then the whole party pro- 
ceeded, somewhat timorously, to sally from the house and 
get to horse. 

“’Tis time we were on the road, Sir Oliver,” said Hatch, 
as he held the priest’s stirrup while he mounted, 

“Ay; but, Bennet, things are changed,” returned the 
parson. “There is now no Appleyard — rest his soul ! — 
to keep the garrison. I shall keep you, Bennet. I must 
have a good man to rest me on in this day of black ar- 
rows. ‘ The arrow that flieth by day,’ saith the evangel ; 
I have no mind of the context ; nay, I am a sluggard 
priest, I am too deep in men’s affairs. Well, let us ride 
forth. Master Hatch. The jackmen should be at the 
church by now.” 

So they rode forward down the road, with the wind 
after them, blowing the tails of the parson’s cloak ; and 
behind them, as they went, clouds began to arise and blot 
out the sinking sun. They had passed three of the scat- 
tered houses that make up Tunstall hamlet, when, coming 
to a turn, they saw the church before them. Ten or a 
dozen houses clustered immediately round it ; but to the 
back the churchyard was next the meadows. At the 


16 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


lych-gate, near a score of men were gathered, some in the 
saddle, some standing by their horses’ heads. They were 
variously armed and mounted ; some with spears, soma 
with bills, some with bows, and some bestriding plough- 
horses, still splashed with the mire of the furrow ; for 
these were the very dregs of the country, and all the 
better men and the fair equipments were already with 
Sir Daniel in the field. 

“We have not done amiss, praised be the cross of 
Holy wood ! Sir Daniel will be right well content,” ob- 
served the priest, inwardly numbering the troop. 

“Who goes? Stand ! if ye be true !” shouted Bennet. 

A man was seen slipping thi’ough the churchyard 
among the yews ; and at the sound of this summons he 
discarded all concealment, and fairly took to his heels for 
the forest. The men at the gate, who had been hitherto 
unaware of the stranger’s presence, woke and scattered. 
Those who had dismounted began scrambling into the 
saddle ; the rest rode in pursuit ; but they had to make 
the circuit of the consecrated ground, and it was plain 
their quarry would escape them. Hatch, roaring an oath, 
put his horse at the hedge, to head him off ; but the beast 
refused, and sent his rider sprawling in the dust And 
though he was up again in a moment, and had caught the 
bridle, the time had gone by, and the fugitive had gained 
too great a lead for any hope of capture. 

The wisest of all had been Dick Shelton. Instead of 
starting in a vain pursuit, he had whipped his cross-bow 


JOHN AMEND-ALL. 


17 


from his back, bent it, and set a quarrel to the string; 
and now, when the others had desisted, he turned to Ben- 
net and asked if he should shoot. 

“ Shoot ! shoot ! ” cried the priest, with sanguinary 
riolence. 

“ Cover him, Master Dick,” said Bennet. “ Bring me 
him down like a ripe apple.” 

The fugitive was now within but a few leaps of safety ; 
but this last part of the meadow ran very steeply uphill, 
and the man ran slower in proportion. What with the 
greyness of the falling night, and the uneven movements 
of the runner, it was no easy aim ; and as Dick levelled 
his bow, he felt a kind of pity, and a half desire that he 
might miss. The quarrel sped. 

The man stumbled and fell, and a great cheer arose 
from Hatch and the pursuers. But they were counting 
their corn before the harvest. The man fell lightly ; he 
was lightly afoot again, turned and waved his cap in a 
bravado, and was out of sight next moment in the margin 
of the wood. 

“And the plague go with him!” cried Bennet. “He 
has thieves’ heels ; he can run, by St. Banbury 1 But you 
touched him. Master Shelton ; he has stolen your quarrel, 
may he never have good I grudge him less ! ” 

“ Nay, but what made he by the church ? ” asked Sir 
Oliver. “lam shrewdly afeared there has been mischief 
here. Clipsby, good fellow, get ye down from your horse, 

and search thoroughly among the yews.” 

2 


18 


THE BLACK ARKOW. 


Clipsby was gone but a little while ere he returned, 
carrying a paper. 

“ This writing was pinned to the church door,” he said, 
handing it to the parson. “ I found naught else, sir par- 
son.” 

“Now, by the power of Mother Church,” cried Sir 
Oliver, “ but this runs hard on sacrilege ! For the king’s 
good pleasure, or the lord of the manor — well ! But 
that every run-the-hedge in a green jerkin should fasten 
papers to the chancel door — nay, it runs hard on sacri- 
lege, hard ; and men have burned for matters of less 
weight. But what have we here ? The light falls apace. 
Good Master Eichard, y’ have young eyes. Bead me, I 
pray, this libel.” 

Dick Shelton took the paper in his hand and read it 
aloud. It contained some lines of very rugged doggerel, 
hardly even rhyming, written in a gross character, and 
most uncouthly spelt. With the spelling somewhat bet- 
tered, this is how they ran : ' 

‘ ‘ I had four blak arrows under my belt, 

Four for the greefs that I have felt, 

Four for the nomber of ill menne 
That have oppressid me now and then. 

One is gone ; one is wele sped ; 

Old Apulyaird is ded. 

One is for Maister Bennet Hatch, 

That burned Grimstone, walls and thatch.' 

One for Sir Oliver Oates, 

That cut Sir Harry Shelton’s throat. 


JOHN AMEND- ALL. 


19 


Sir Daniel, ye shull have the fourt ; 

We shall think it fair sport. 

Ye shull each have your own part, 

A blak arrow in each blak heart 
Get ye to your knees for to pray : 

Ye are ded theeves, by yea and nay I 

“Jon Amend-All . 

of the Green Wood, 

And his jolly fellaweship. 

‘ ‘ Item, we have mo arrowes and goode hempen cord for otheres 
of your following.” 

“ Now, well-a-day for charity and the Christian graces ! ” 
cried Sir Oliver, lamentably. “ Sirs, this is an ill world, 
and groweth daily worse. I will swear upon the cross of 
Holywood I am as innocent of that good knight’s hurt, 
whether in act or purpose, as the babe unchristened. 
Neither was his throat cut ; for therein they are again in 
error, as there still live credible witnesses to show.” 

“ It boots not, sir parson,” said Bennet. “ Here is un- 
seasonable talk.” 

“ Nay, Master Bennet, not so. Keep ye in your due 
place, good Bennet,” answered the priest. “ I shall make 
mine innocence appear. I will, upon no consideration, 
lose my poor life in error. I take all men to witness that 
I am clear of this matter. I was not even in the Moat 
House. I was sent of an errand before nine upon the 
clock ” 

“Sir Oliver,” said Hatch, interrupting, “since it please 
you not to stop this sermon, I will take other meana 
Goffe, sound to horse.” 


20 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


And while the tucket was sounding, Bennet moved close 
to the bewildered parson, and whispered violently in his 
ear. 

Dick Shelton saw the priest’s eye turned upon him for 
an instant in a startled glance. He had some cause for 
thought ; for this Sir Harry Shelton was his own natural 
father. But he said never a word, and kept his counte- 
nance unmoved. 

Hatch and Sir Oliver discussed together for awhile their 
altered situation ; ten men, it was decided between them, 
should be reserved, not only to garrison the Moat House, 
but to escort the priest across the wood. In the mean- 
time, as Bennet was to remain behind, the command of 
the reinforcement was given to Master Shelton. Indeed, 
there was no choice ; the men were loutish fellows, dull 
and unskilled in war, while Dick was not only popular, 
but resolute and grave beyond his age. Although his 
youth had been spent in these rough, country places, the 
lad had been well taught in letters by Sir Oliver, and 
Hatch himself had shown him the management of arms 
and the first principles of command. Bennet had always 
been kind and helpful ; he was one of those who are cruel 
as the grave to those they call their enemies, but ruggedly 
faithful and well willing to their friends ; and now, while 
Sir Oliver entered the next house to write, in his swift, 
exquisite penmanship, a memorandum of the last occurs 
rences to his master. Sir Daniel Brackley, Bennet came up 
to his pupil to wish him God-speed upon his enterprise. 


JOriN AMEND-ALL. 


21 


“ Ye must go the long way about, Master Shelton,” he 
said ; “ round by the bridge, for your life ! Keep a sure 
man fifty paces afore you, to draw shots ; and go softly 
till y’ are past the wood. If the rogues fall upon you, 
ride for ’t ; ye will do naught by standing. And keep ever 
forward. Master Shelton ; turn me not back again, an ye 
love your life ; there is no help in Tunstall, mind ye that. 
And now, since ye go to the great wars about the king, 
and I continue to dwell here in extreme jeopardy of my 
life, and the saints alone can certify if we shall meet again 
below, I give you my last counsels now at your riding. 
Keep an eye on Sir Daniel ; he is unsure. Put not your 
trust in the jack-priest ; he intendeth not amiss, but doth 
the will of othei’s ; it is a hand-gun for Sir Daniel ! Get 
you good lordship where ye go ; make you strong friends ; 
look to it. And think ever a pater-noster- while on Bennet 
Hatch. There are worse rogues afoot than Bennet. So, 
God- speed ! ” 

“And Heaven be with you, Bennet!” returned Dick. 
“Ye were a good friend to me- ward, and so I shall say ever.” 

“And, look ye, master,” added Hatch, with a certain 
embarrassment, “if this Amend- All should get a shaft 
into me, ye might, mayhap, lay out a gold mark or may- 
hap a pound for my poor soul ; for it is like to go stiff 
with me in purgatory.” 

“ Ye shall have your will of it, Bennet,” answered Dick. 
“ But, what cheer, man ! we shall meet again, where ye 
shall have more need of ale than masses.” 


22 


THE BLACK AJtROW. 


“ The saints so grant it, Master Dick ! ” returned the 
other. “ But here comes Sir Oliver. An he were as quick 
with the long-bow as with the pen, he would be a brave 
man-at-arms.” 

Sir Oliver gave Dick a sealed packet, with this super- 
scription : “ To my ryght worchypful master, Sir Daniel 
Brackley, knyght, be thys delyvered in haste.” 

And Dick, putting it in the bosom of his jacket, gave 
the word and set forth westward up the village. 


BOOK I— THE TWO LABS. 

CHAPTER I. 

AT THE SIGN OF THE SUN IN KETTLEt. 

Sir Daniel and his men lay in and about Kettley that 
night, warmly quartered and well patrolled. But the 
Knight of Tunstall was one who never rested from money- 
getting ; and even now, when he was on the brink of an 
adventure which should make or mar him, he was up an 
hour after midnight to squeeze poor neighbours. He was 
one who trafficked greatly in disputed inheritances ; it 
was his way to buy out the most unlikely claimant, and 
then, by the favour he curried with great lords about the 
king, procure unjust decisions in his favour ; or, if that 
was too roundabout, to seize the disputed manor by force 
of arms, and rely on his influence and Sir Oliver’s cunning 
in the law to hold what he had snatched. Kettley was 
one such place ; it had come very lately into his clutches ; 
he still met with opposition from the tenants ; and it was 
to overawe discontent that he had led his troops that way. 

By two in the morning. Sir Daniel sat in the inn room, 
close by the fireside, for it was cold at that hour among 
the fens of Kettley. By his elbow stood a pottle of spiced 


24 


THE BLACK AKKOW. 


ale. He had taken off his visored headpiece, and sat with 
his bald head and thin, dark visage resting on one hand, 
wrapped warmly in a sanguine-coloured cloak. At the 
lower end of the room about a dozen of his men stood 
sentry over the door or lay asleep on benches ; and some- 
what nearer hand, a young lad, apparently of twelve or 
thirteen, was stretched in a mantle on the floor. The host 
of the Sun stood before the great man. 

“Now, mark me, mine host,” Sir Daniel said, “follow 
but mine orders, and I shall be your good lord ever. I 
must have good men for head boroughs, and I will have 
Adam-a-More high constable ; see to it narrowly. If 
other men be chosen, it shall avail you nothing ; rather it 
shall be found to your sore cost. For those that have 
paid rent to Walsingham I shall take good measure — you 
among the rest, mine host.” 

“Good knight,” said the host, “I will swear upon the 
cross of Holywood I did but pay to Walsingham upon 
compulsion. Nay, bully knight, I love not the rogue 
Walsinghams ; they were as poor as thieves, buUy knight. 
Give me a great lord like you. Nay ; ask me among the 
neighbours, I am stout for Brackley.” 

“ It may be,” said Sir Daniel, dryly. “ Ye shall then 
pay twice.” 

The innkeeper made a horrid grimace ; but this was 
a piece of bad luck that might readily befall a tenant in 
these unruly times, and he was perhaps glad to make hia 
peace so easily. 


AT THE SIGN OP THE SUN IN KETTLEY. 


25 


'* Bring up yon fellow, Selden ! ” cried the knight. 

And one of his retainers led up a poor, cringing old 
man, as pale as a candle, and all shaking with the fen fever. 

“ Sirrah,” said Sir Daniel, “ your name ? ” 

“An’t please your worship,” replied the man, “my 
name is Condall — Condall of Shoreby, at your good wor- 
ship’s pleasure.” 

“ I have heard you ill reported on,” returned the knight. 
“ Ye deal in treason, rogue ; ye trudge the country leas- 
ing ; y’ are heavily suspicioned of the death of severals. 
How, fellow, are ye so bold? But I will bring you 
down.” 

“ Right honourable and my reverend lord,” the man 
cried, “here is some hodge-podge, saving your good 
presence. I am but a poor private man, and have hurt 
none.” 

“ The under-sheriff did report of you most vilely,” said 
the knight. “ ‘ Seize me,’ saith he, ‘ that Tyndal of 
Shoreby.’ ” 

“ Condall, my good lord ; Condall is my poor name,” 
said the unfortunate. 

“ Condall or Tyndal, it is all one,” replied Sir Daniel, 
coolly. “ For, by my sooth, y’ are here, and I do might- 
ily suspect your honesty. If ye would save your neck, 
write me swiftly an obligation for twenty pound.” 

“For twenty pound, my good lord!” cried Condall 
“ Here is midsummer madness ! My whole estate amount* 
eth not to seventy shillings.” 


26 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


“Condall or Tyndal,” returned Sir Daniel, grinning, “1 
wik run my peril of that loss. Write me down twenty, 
and when I have recovered all I may, I will be good lord 
to you, and pardon you the rest.” 

“ Alas ! my good lord, it may not be ; I have no skill to 
■write,” said Condall. 

“ Well-a-day ! ” returned the knight. “Here, then, is no 
remedy. Yet I would fain have spared you, Tyndal, had 
my conscience suffered. Selden, take me this old shrew 
softly to the nearest elm, and hang me him tenderly by 
the neck, where I may see him at my riding. Fare ye 
well, good Master Condall, dear Master Tyndal ; y’ are 
post-haste for Paradise ; fare ye then well ! ” 

“ Nay, my right pleasant lord,” rephed Condall, forcing 
an obsequious smile, “an ye be so masterful, as doth right 
well become you, I ■will even, with all my poor skill, do 
your good bidding.” 

“Friend,” quoth Sir Daniel, “ye will now "write two 
score. Go to ! y’ are too cunning for a livelihood of sev- 
enty shillings. Selden, see him write me this in good 
form, and have it duly witnessed.” 

And Sir Daniel, who was a very merry knight, none 
merrier in England, took a drink of his mulled ale, and 
lay back, smiling. 

Meanwhile, the boy upon the floor began to stir, and 
presently sat up and looked about him with a scare. 

“ Hither,” said Sir Daniel ; and as the other rose at his 
command and came slowly towards him, he leaned back 


AT THE SIGN OF THE STIN IN KETTLEY. 


27 


and laughed outright. “ By the rood ! ” he cried, “ a 
stui'dy boy ! ” 

The lad flushed crimson with anger, and darted a look 
of hate out of his dark eyes. Now that he was on his legs, 
it was more difl&cult to make certain of his age. His face 
looked somewhat older in expression, but it was as smooth 
as a young child’s ; and in bone and body he was unusu- 
ally slender, and somewhat awkward of gait. 

“ Ye have called me. Sir Daniel,” he said. “ Was it to 
laugh at my poor plight ? ” 

“ Nay, now, let laugh,” said the knight. “ Good shrew, 
let laugh, I pray you. An ye could see yourself, I warrant 
ye w'ould laugh the first.” 

“Well,” cried the lad, flushing, “ye shall answer this 
when ye answer for the other. Laugh while yet ye may ! ” 

“ Nay, now, good cousin,” replied Sir Daniel, with some 
earnestness, “think not that I mock at you, except in 
mirth, as between kinsfolk and singular friends. I will 
make you a marriage of a thousand pounds, go to ! and 
cherish you exceedingly. I took you, indeed, roughly, as 
the time demanded ; but from henceforth I shall un- 
grudgingly maintain and cheerfully serve you. Ye shall 
be Mrs. Shelton — Lady Shelton, by my troth ! for the lad 
promiseth bravely. Tut ! ye will not shy for honest 
laughter ; it purgeth melancholy. They are no rogues 
who laugh, good cousin. Good mine host, lay me a meal 
now for my cousin, Master John. Sit ye down, sweet 
heart, and eat.” 


28 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


“ Nay,” said Master John, “ I will break no bread 
Since ye force me to this sin, I will fast for my soul’s in- 
terest. But, good mine host, I pray you of courtesy give 
me a cup of fair water ; I shall be much beholden to your 
courtesy indeed.” 

“ Ye shall have a dispensation, go to ! ” cried the knight. 
“ Shalt be well shriven, by my faith ! Content you, then, 
and eat.” 

But the lad was obstinate, drank a cup of water, and, 
once more wrapping himself closely in his mantle, sat in 
a far corner, brooding. 

In an hour or two, there rose a stir in the village of 
sentries challenging and the clatter of arms and horses ; 
and then a troop drew up by the inn door, and Richard 
Shelton, splashed with mud, presented himself upon the 
threshold. 

“ Save you. Sir Daniel,” he said. 

“ How ! Dickie Shelton ! ” cried the knight ; and at the 
mention of Dick’s name the other lad looked curiously 
across. “ What maketh Bennet Hatch ? ” 

“Please you, sir knight, to take cognizance of this 
packet from Sir Oliver, wherein are all things fully 
stated,” answered Richard, presenting the priest’s letter. 
“ And please you farther, ye were best make all speed to 
Risingham ; for on the way hither we encountered one 
riding furiously with letters, and by his report, my Lord 
of Risingham was sore bested, and lacked exceedingly 
your presence.” 


AT THE SIGN OF THE SUN IN KETTLEY. 


29 


“ How say you ? Sore bested ? ” returned the knight, 
“ Nay, then, we will make speed sitting down, good Rich- 
ard. As the world goes in this poor realm of England, 
he that rides softliest rides surest. Delay, they say, be- 
getteth peril ; but it is rather this itch of doing that un- 
does men ; mark it, Dick. But let me see, first, what cattle 
ye have brought. Selden, a link here at the door ! ” 

And Sir Daniel strode forth into the village street, and, 
by the red glow of a torch, inspected his new troops. He 
was an unpopular neighbour and an unpopular master ; 
but as a leader in war he was well-beloved by those who 
rode behind his pennant. His dash, his proved courage, 
his forethought for the soldiers’ comfort, even his rough 
gibes, were all to the taste of the bold blades in jack and 
salet. 

“Nay, by the rood!” he cried, “what poor dogs are 
these ? Here be some as crooked as a bow, and some as 
lean as a spear. Friends, ye shall ride in the front of the 
battle ; I can spare you, friends. Mark me this old vil- 
lain on the piebald ! A two-year mutton riding on a hog 
would look more soldierly ! Ha 1 Clipsby, are ye there, 
old rat ? Y’ are a man I could lose with a good heart ; ye 
shall go in front of all, with a bull’s-eye painted on your 
jack, to be the better butt for archery ; sirrah, ye shall 
show me the way.” 

“ I will show you any way, Sir Daniel, but the way to 
change sides,” returned Clipsby, sturdily. 

Sir Daniel laughed a guffaw. 


30 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


“ Wby, well said ! ” he cried. “ Hast a shrewd tongue 
in thy mouth, go to ! I will forgive you for that merry 
word. Selden, see them fed, both man and brute.” 

The knight re-entered the inn. 

“Now, friend Dick,” he said, “fall to. Here is good 
ale and bacon. Eat, while that I read.” 

Sir Daniel opened the packet, and as he read his brow 
darkened. When he had done he sat a little, musing. 
Then he looked sharply at his ward. 

“ Dick,” said he, “y’ have seen this penny rhyme? ” 

The lad replied in the affirmative. 

“ It bears your father’s name,” continued the knight ; 
“ and our poor shrew of a parson is, by some mad soul, 
accused of slaying him.” 

“ He did most eagerly deny it,” answered Dick. 

“He did?” cried the knight, very sharply. “Heed 
him not. He has a loose tongue ; he babbles like a jack- 
sparrow. Some day, when I may find the leisure, Dick, I 
will myself more fully inform you of these matters. 
There was one Duckworth shrewdly blamed for it ; but 
the times were troubled, and there was no justice to be got.” 

“ It befell at the Moat House ? ” Dick ventured, with a 
beating at his heart. 

“ It befell between the Moat House and Holywood,” re- 
plied Sir Daniel, calmly ; but he shot a covert glance, 
black with suspicion, at Dick’s face. “ And now,” added 
the knight, “ speed you with your meal ; ye shall return 
to Tunstall with a line from me.” 


AT THE SIGN OF THE SUN IN KETTLEY. 


31 


Dick’s face fell sorely. 

“ Prithee, Sir Daniel,” he cried, “ send one of the vil- 
kains ! I beseech you let me to the battle. I can strike a 
stroke, I promise you.” 

“I misdoubt it not,” replied Sir Daniel, sitting down to 
write. “ But here, Dick, is no honour to be won. I lie 
in Kettley till I have sure tidings of the war, and then 
ride to join me with the conqueror. Cry not on cow- 
ardice ; it is but wisdom, Dick ; for this poor realm so 
tosseth with rebellion, and the king’s name and custody 
so changeth hands, that no man may be certain of the 
morrow. Toss-pot and Shuttle-wit run in, but my Lord 
Good-Counsel sits o’ one side, waiting.” 

With that. Sir Daniel, tmning his back to Dick, and 
quite at the farther end of the long table, began to write 
his letter, with his mouth on one side, for this business of 
the Black Arrow stuck sorely in his throat. 

Meanwhile, young Shelton was going on heartily 
enough with his breakfast, when he felt a touch upon his 
arm, and a very soft voice whispering in his ear. 

“ Make not a sign, I do beseech you,” said the voice, 
“ but of your charity tell me the straight way to Holy- 
wood. Beseech you, now, good boy, comfort a poor soul 
in peril and extreme distress, and set me so far forth upon 
the way to my repose.” 

“Take the path by the windmill,” answered Dick, in 
the same tone ; “ it will bring you to Till Ferry ; there 
inquire again.” 


32 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


And without turning his head, he fell again to eating. 
But with the tail of his eye he caught a glimpse of the 
young lad called Master John stealthily creeping from the 
room. 

“ Why,” thought Dick, “ he is as young as I. ‘ Good 
boy ’ doth he call me ? An I had known, I should have 
seen the varlet hanged ere I had told him. Well, if he 
goes through the fen, I may come up with him and pull 
his ears.” 

Half an hour later. Sir Daniel gave Dick the letter, and 
bade him speed to the Moat House. And, again, some 
half an hour after Dick’s departure, a messenger came, in 
hot haste, from my Lord of Risingham. 

“ Sir Daniel,” the messenger said, “ ye lose great 
honour, by my sooth ! The fight began again this morn- 
ing ere the dawn, and we have beaten their van and scat- 
tered their right wing. Only the main battle standeth 
fast An we had your fresh men, we should tilt you them 
all into the river. What, sir knight! Will ye be the 
last ? It stands not with your good credit.” 

“Nay,” cried the knight, “I was but now upon the 
march. Selden, sound me the tucket. Sir, I am with 
you on the instant. It is not two hours since the more 
part of my command came in, sir messenger. What 
would ye have ? Spurring is good meat, but yet it killed 
the charger. Bustle, boys ! ” 

By this time the tucket was sounding cheerily in the 
morning, and from all sides Sir Daniel’s men poured 


AT TIIK SIGN OF THE SUN IN KErPLET. 


33 


into the main street and formed before the inn. They 
had slept upon their arms, with chargers saddled, and in 
ten minutes five-score men-at-arms and archers, cleanly 
equipped and briskly disciplined, stood ranked and ready. 
The chief part were in Sir Daniel’s livery, murrey and blue, 
which gave the greater show to their array. The best 
armed rode first ; and away out of sight, at the tail of the 
column, came the sorry reinforcement of the night before. 
Sir Daniel looked with pride along the line. 

“Here be the lads to serve you in a pinch,” he said. 

“They are pretty men, indeed,” replied the messenger. 
“It but augments my sorrow that ye had not marched 
the earlier.” 

“ Well,” said the knight, “ what would ye ? The begin- 
ning of a feast and the end of a fray, sir messenger ; ” 
and he mounted into his saddle. “ Why ! how now ! ” he 
cried. “ John ! Joanna ! Nay, by the sacred rood ! 
where is she ? Host, where is that girl ? ” 

“ Girl, Sir Daniel ? ” cried the landlord. “ Nay, sir, I 
flaw no girl.” 

“ Boy, then, dotard ! ” cried the knight. “ Could ye not 
see it was a wench ? She in the murrey-coloured mantle — 
she that broke her fast with water, rogue — where is 
she?” 

“ Nay, the saints bless us ! Master John, ye called him,” 
said the host. “ Well, I thought none evil. He is gone. 
I saw him — her — I saw her in the stable a good hour 
agone ; ’a was saddling a grey horse.” 

3 


34 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


“Now, by the rood ! ” cried Sir Daniel, “ the wench was 
worth five hundred pound to me and more.” 

“Sir knight,” observed the messenger, with bitterness, 
“ while that ye are here, roaring for five hundred pounds, 
the realm of England is elsewhere being lost and won.” 

“It is well said,” replied Sir Daniel. “Selden, fall me 
out with six cross-bowmen ; hunt me her down. I care 
not what it cost ; but, at my returning, let me find her at 
the Moat House. Be it upon your head. And now, sir 
messenger, we march.” 

And the troop broke into a good trot, and Selden and 
his six men were left behind upon the street of Kettley, 
with the staring villagers. 


CHAPTER H. 

IN THE FEN. 

It was near six in the May morning when Dick began 
to ride down into the fen upon his homeward way. The 
sky was all blue ; the jolly wind blew loud and steady ; 
the windmill-sails were spinning ; and the willows over 
all the fen rippling and whitening like a field of corn. He 
had been all night in the saddle, but his heart was good 
and his body sound, and he rode right merrily. 

The path went down and down into the marsh, till he 
lost sight of all the neighbouring landmarks but Kettley 


IN THE FEN. 


35 


windmill on the knoll behind him, and the extreme top of 
Tunstall Forest far before. On either hand there were 
gi-eat fields of blowing reeds and willows, pools of water 
shaking in the wind, and treacherous bogs, as green as 
emerald, to tempt and to betray the traveller. The path 
lay almost straight through the morass. It was already 
veiy ancient ; its foundation had been laid by Koman sol- 
diery ; in the lapse of ages much of it had sunk, and every 
here and there, for a few hundred yards, it lay submerged 
below the stagnant waters of the fen. 

About a mile from Kettley, Dick came to one such 
break in the plain line of causeway, where the reeds and 
willows grew dispersedly like little islands and confused 
the eye. The gap, besides, was more than usually long ; 
it was a place where any stranger might come readily to 
mischief ; and Dick bethought him, with something like a 
pang, of the lad whom he had so imperfectly directed. 
As for himself, one look backward to where the windmill 
sails were turning black against the blue of heaven — one 
look forward to the high ground of Tunstall Forest, and 
he was sufficiently directed and held straight on, the wa- 
ter washing to his horse’s knees, as safe as on a highway. 

Half-way across, and when he had already sighted the 
path rising high and dry upon the farther side, he was 
' aware of a great splashing on his right, and saw a grey 
horse, sunk to its belly in the mud, and still spasmodic- 
ally struggling. Instantly, as though it had divined the 
neighbourhood of help, the poor beast began to neigh most 


36 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


piercingly. It rolled, meanwhile, a bloodshot eye, insane 
with teiTor ; and as it sprawled wallowing in the quag, 
clouds of stinging insects rose and buzzed about it in the 
air. 

“Alack!” thought Dick, “can the poor lad have per- 
ished ? There is his horse, for certain — a brave grey ! 
Nay, comrade, if thou criest to me so piteously, I will do 
all man can to help thee. Shalt not lie there to drown 
by inches ! ” 

And he made ready his crossbow, and put a quarrel 
through the creature’s head. 

Dick rode on after this act of rugged mercy, somewhat 
sobered in spirit, and looking closely about him for any 
sign of his less happy predecessor in the way. 

“I would I had dared to tell him further,” he thought ; 
“for I fear he has miscarried in the slough.” 

And just as he was so thinking, a voice cried upon his 
name from the causeway side, and, looking over his shoul- 
der, he saw the lad’s face peering from a clump of reeds. 

“ Are ye there ? ” he said, reining in. “ Ye lay so close 
among the reeds that I had passed you by. I saw your 
horse bemired, and put him from his agony ; which, by 
my sooth I an ye had been a more merciful rider, ye had 
done yourself. But come forth out of yom* hiding. 
Here be none to trouble you.” 

“Nay, good boy, I have no arms, nor skill to use theni 
if I had,” replied the other, stepping forth upon the path* 
way. 


IN THE FEN. 


w7 

“ Why call me ‘ boy ’ ? ” cried Dick. “ Y’ are not, 1 
trow, the elder of us twain.” 

“Good Master Shelton,” said the other, “prithee for- 
give me. I have none the least intention to offend. 
Rather I would in every way beseech your gentleness and 
favour, for I am now worse bested than ever, having lost 
my way, my cloak, and my poor horse. To have a riding- 
rod and spurs, and never a horse to sit upon ! And be- 
fore all,” he added, looking ruefully upon his clothes — 
“ before all, to be so sorrily besmirched ! ” 

“ Tut ! ” cried Dick. “ Would ye mind a ducking ? 
Blood of wound or dust of travel — that’s a man’s adorn- 
ment.” 

“ Nay, then, I like him better plain,” observed the lad. 
“ But, prithee, how shall I do ? Prithee, good Master 
Richard, help me with your good counsel. If I come not 
safe to Holywood, I am undone.” 

“ Nay,” said Dick, dismounting, “ I will give more than 
counsel. Take my horse, and I will run awhile, and when 
I am weary we shall change again, that so, riding and 
running, both may go the speedier.” 

So the change was made, and they went forward as 
briskly as they durst on the uneven causeway, Dick with 
his hand upon the other’s knee. 

“ How call ye your name ? ” asked Dick. 

“ Call me John Matcham,” replied the lad. 

“ And what make ye to Holywood ? ” Dick continued. 

“I seek sanctuary from a man that would oppress me,” 


88 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


was the answer. “ The good Abbot of Holywood is a 
strong pillar to the weak.” 

“ And how came ye with Sir Daniel, Master Matoham ? ” 
pursued Dick. 

“Nay,” cried the other, “by the abuse of force! He 
hath taken me by violence from my own place ; dressed 
me in these weeds ; ridden with me tiU my heart was 
sick ; gibed me till I could ’a’ wept ; and when certain of 
my friends pursued, thinking to have me back, claps me 
in the rear to stand their shot ! I was even grazed in the 
right foot, and walk but lamely. Nay, there shall come a 
day between us ; he shall smart for all ! ” 

“ Would ye shoot at the moon with a hand-gun ? ” said 
Dick. “ ’Tis a valiant knight, and hath a hand of iron, 
in he guessed I had made or meddled with your flight, 
it would go sore with me.” 

“ Ay, poor boy,” returned the other, “ y’ are his ward, 
I know it. By the same token, so am I, or so he saith ; 
or else he hath bought my marriage — I wot not rightly 
which; but it is some handle to oppress me by.” 

“ Boy again 1 ” said Dick. 

“ Nay, then, shall I call you girl, good Kichard ? ” asked 
Matcham. 

“Never a girl for me,” returned Dick. “I do abjure 
the crew of them I ” 

“ Ye speak boyishly,” said the other. “ Ye think more 
of them than ye pretend.” 

“ Not I,” said Dick, stoutly. “ They come not in my 


m THE FEN. 


39 


mind. A plague of them, say I ! Give me to hunt and 
to fight and to feast, and to live with jolly foresters. I 
never heard of a maid yet that was for any service, save 
one only ; and she, poor shrew, was burned for a witch 
and the wearing of men’s clothes in spite of nature.” 

Master Matcham crossed himself with fervour, and ap- 
peared to pray. 

“ What make ye ? ” Dick inquired. 

“I pray for her spirit,” answered the other, with a 
somewhat troubled voice. 

“ For a witch’s spirit ? ” Dick cried. “But pray for her, 
an ye list ; she was the best wench in Europe, was this 
Joan of Arc. Old Appleyard the archer ran from her, he 
said, as if she had been Mahoun. Nay, she was a brave 
wench.” 

“ Well, but, good Master Richard,” resumed Matcham, 
“an ye like maids so little, y’ are no true natural man ; 
for God made them twain by intention, and brought true 
love into the world, to be man’s hope and woman’s com- 
fort.” 

“ Faugh ! ” said Dick. “ Y’ are a milk-sopping baby, so 
to harp on women. An ye think I be no true man, get 
down upon the path, and whether at fists, backsword, 
or bow and arrow, I will prove my manhood on your 
body.” 

“ Nay, I am no fighter,” said Matcham, eagerly. “ I 
mean no tittle of offence. I meant but pleasantry. And 
if I talk of women, it is because I heard ye were to marry.” 


40 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


“ I to marry ! ” Dick exclaimed, “ Well, it is the first 
I hear of it. And with whom was I to marry ? ” 

“ One Joan Sedley,” replied Matcham, colouring. “ It 
was Sir Daniel’s doing ; he hath money to gain upon both 
sides ; and, indeed, I have heard the poor wench bemoan- 
ing herself pitifully of the match. It seems she is of your 
mind, or else distasted to the bridegroom.” 

“Well! marriage is like death, it comes to all,” said 
Dick, with resignation. “ And she bemoaned herself ? I 
pray ye now, see there how shuttle-witted are these girls : 
to bemoan herself before that she had seen me ! Do I be- 
moan myself ? Not I. An I be to marry, I will marry 
dry-eyed ! But if ye know her, prithee, of what favour is 
she ? fair or foul ? And is she shrewish or pleasant ? ” 
“Nay, what matters it? ” said Matcham. “An y’ are to 
marry, ye can but many. What matters foul or fair ? 
These be but toys. Y’ are no milksop. Master Richard ; 
ye will wed with diy eyes, anyhow.” 

“ It is well said,” replied Shelton. “ Little I reck.” 
“Your lady wife is like to have a pleasant lord,” said 
Matcham. 

“ She shall have the lord Heaven made her for,” returned 
Dick. “I trow there be worse as well as better.” 

“ Ah, the poor wench ! ” cried the other. 

“And why so poor?” asked Dick. 

“ To wed a man of wood,” replied his companion. “ O 
me, for a wooden husband ! ” 

“I think I be a man of wood, indeed,” said Dick, “to 


IN THE FEN. 


41 


trudge afoot the while you ride my horse ; but it is good 
wood, I trow.” 

“ Good Dick, forgive me,” cried the other. “ Nay, y’ are 
the best heart in England ; I but laughed. Forgive me 
now, sweet Dick.” 

“ Nay, no fool words,” returned Dick, a little embar- 
rassed by his companion’s warmth. “ No harm is done. 
I am not touchy, praise the saints.” 

And at that, moment the wind, which was blowing 
straight behind them as they went, brought them the 
rough flourish of Sir Daniel’s trumpeter.” 

“ Hark ! ” said Dick, “the tucket soimdeth.” 

“ Ay,” said Matcham, “ they have found my flight, and 
now I am unhorsed ! ” and he became pale as death. 

“ Nay, what cheer ! ” returned Dick. “ Y’ have a long 
start, and we are near the ferry. And it is I, methinks, 
that am unhorsed.” 

“ Alack, I shall be taken ! ” cried the fugitive. “ Dick, 
kind Dick, beseech ye help me but a little ! ” 

“ Why, now, what aileth thee ? ” said Dick. “ Methinks 
I help you very patently. But my heart is sorry for so 
spiritless a fellow ! And see ye here, John Matcham — 
sith John Matcham is your name — I, Kichard Shelton, 
tide what betideth, come what may, will see you safe in 
Holywood. The saints so do to me again if I default you. 
Come, pick me up a good heart, Sir White-face. The way 
betters here ; spur me the horse. Go faster ! faster J 
Nay, mind not for me ; I can run like a deer.” 


42 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


So, with the horse trotting hard, and Dick running 
easily alongside, they crossed the remainder of the fen, 
and came out upon the banks of the river by the ferry- 
man’s hut. 


CHAPTER m. 

THE FEN FERRY. 

The river Till was a wide, sluggish, clayey water, oozing 
out of fens, and in this part of its course it strained among 
some score of willow-covered, marshy islets. 

It was a dingy stream ; but upon this bright, spirited 
morning everything was become beautiful. The wind 
and the martens broke it up into innumerable dimples ; 
and the reflection of the sky was scattered over all the 
surface in crumbs of smiling blue. 

A creek ran up to meet the path, and close under the 
bank the ferryman’s hut lay snugly. It was of wattle and 
clay, and the grass grew green upon the roof. 

Dick went to the door and opened it. Within, upon 
a foul old russet cloak, the ferryman lay stretched and 
shivering ; a great hulk of a man, but lean and shaken by 
the country fever. 

“ Hey, Master Shelton,” he said, “be ye for the ferry ? 
Ill times, ill times ! Look to yoiirself. There is a fellow- 
ship abroad. Ye were better turn round on your two 
heels and try the bridge.” 


THE FEN FERRY, 


43 


“Nay ; time’s in the saddle,” answered Pick. “Time 
will ride, Hugh Ferryman. I am hot in haste.” 

“A wilful man ! ” returned the ferryman, rising. “An 
ye win safe to the Moat House, y’ have done lucky ; but 
I say no more.” And then catching sight of Matcham, 
“ Who be this ? ” he asked, as he paused, blinking, on the 
threshold of his cabin. 

“It is my kinsman. Master Matcham,” answered Dick. 

“Give ye good day, good ferryman,” said Matcham, who 
had dismounted, and now came forward, leading the 
horse. “ Launch me your boat, I prithee ; we are sore in 
haste.” 

The gaunt ferryman continued staring. 

“ By the mass ! ” he cried at length, and laughed with 
open throat 

Matcham coloured to his neck and winced ; and Dick, 
with an angry countenance, put his hand on the lout’s 
shoulder. 

“ How now, churl I ” he cried. “Fall to thy business, 
and leave mocking thy betters.” 

Hugh Ferryman grumblingly undid his boat, and shoved 
it a little forth into the deep water. Then Dick led in the 
horse, and Matcham followed. 

“ Ye be mortal small made, master,” said Hugh, with a 
wide grin ; “ something o’ the wrong model, belike. Nay, 
Master Shelton, I am for you,” he added, getting to his 
oars. “ A cat may look at a king. I did but take a shot 
of the eye at Master Matcham.” 


44 


THE BLACK AKROW. 


“Sirrah, no more words,” said Dick. “Bend me your 
back.” 

They were by that time at the mouth of the creek, and 
the view opened up and down the river. Everywhere it 
was enclosed with islands. Clay banks were falling in, 
willows nodding, reeds waving, martens dipping and 
piping. There was no sign of man in the labyrinth of 
waters. 

“ My master,” said the ferryman, keeping the boat steady 
with one oar, “I have a shrew guess that John-a-Fenne is 
on the island. He bears me a black grudge to all Sir 
Daniel’s. How if I turned me up stream and landed you 
an arrow-flight above the path ? Ye were best not meddle 
with John Fenne.” 

“ How, then ? is he of this company ? ” asked Dick. 

“ Nay, mum is the word,” said Hugh. “But I would go 
up water, Dick. How if Master Matcham came by an 
arrow ? ” and he laughed again. 

“Be it so, Hugh,” answered Dick. 

“Look ye, then,” pursued Hugh. “ Sith it shall so be, 
unsling me your cross-bow — so : now make it ready — good ; 
place me a quarrel. Ay, keep it so, and look upon me 
grimly.” 

“ What meaneth this ? ” asked Dick. 

“ Why, my master, if I steal you across, it must be un- 
der force or fear,” replied the ferryman; “for else, if 
John Fenne got wind of it, he were like to prove my most 
distressful neighbour.” 


THE FEN FERRY. 


45 


“Do these churls ride so roughly?” Dick inquired. 

‘Do they command Sir Daniel’s own ferry?” 

“ Nay,” whispered the ferryman, winking. “ Mark me ! 
Sir Daniel shall down. His time is out. He shall down. 
Mum ! ” And he bent over his oars. 

They pulled a long way up the river, turned the tail of 
an island, and came softly down a narrow channel next the 
opposite bank. Then Hugh held water in mid-stream. 

“ I must land you here among the willows,” he said. 

“ Here is no path but willow swamps and quagmires,” 
answered Dick. 

“ Master Shelton,” replied Hugh, “ I dare not take ye 
nearer down, for your own sake now. He watcheth me 
the ferry, lying on his bow. All that go by and owe Sir 
Daniel goodwill, he shooteth down like rabbits. I heard 
him swear it by the rood. An I had not known you of 
old days — ay, and from so high upward — I would ’a’ let 
you go on ; but for old days’ remembrance, and because 
ye had this toy with you that’s not fit for wounds or war- 
fare, I did risk my two poor ears to have you over whole. 
Content you ; I can no more, on my salvation ! ” 

Hugh was still speaking, lying on his oars, when there 
came a great shout from among the willows on the island, 
and sovmds followed as of a strong man breasting roughly 
through the wood. 

“ A murrain ! ” cried Hugh. “ He was on the upper 
island all the while ! ” He pulled straight for shore. 

Threat me with your bow, good Dick ; threat me with it 


43 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


plain,” he added. “ I have tried to save your skins, save 
you mine ! ” 

The boat ran into a tough thicket of willows with a crash. 
Matcham, pale, but steady and alert, at a sign from Dick, 
ran along the thwarts and leaped ashore ; Dick, taking the 
horse by the bridle, sought to follow, but what with the 
animal’s bulk, and what with the closeness of the thicket, 
both stuck fast. The horse neighed and trampled ; and 
the boat, which was swinging in an eddy, came on and off 
and pitched with violence. 

“ It may not be, Hugh ; here is no landing,” cried Dick ; 
but he still struggled valiantly with the obstinate thicket 
and the startled animal. 

A tall man appeared upon the shore of the island, a long- 
bow in his hand. Dick saw him for an instant, with the 
corner of his eye, bending the bow with a great effort, his 
face crimson with hurry. 

“ Who goes? ” he shouted. “ Hugh, who goes ? ” 

“ ’Tis Master Shelton, John,” replied the ferryman. 

“ Stand, Dick Shelton ! ” bawled the man upon the island. 
“ Ye shall have no hurt, upon the rood ! Stand ! Back 
out, Hugh Ferryman.” 

Dick cried a taunting answer. 

“ Nay, then, ye shall go afoot,” returned the man ; and 
he let drive an arrow. 

The horse, struck by the shaft, lashed out in agony and 
terror ; the boat capsized, and next moment all were strug- 
gling in the eddies of the river. 


THE FEN FERRY. 


47 


When Dick came up, he was within a yard of the bank ; 
and before his eyes were clear, his hand had closed on 
something firm and strong that instantly began to drag him 
forward. It was the riding-rod, that Matcham, crawling 
forth upon an overhanging willow, had opportunely thrust 
into his grasp. 

“ By the mass ! ” cried Dick, as he was helped ashore, 
“ that makes a life I owe you. I swim like a cannon-ball.” 
And he turned instantly towards the island. 

Midway over, Hugh Ferryman was swimming with his 
upturned boat, while John-a-Fenne, furious at the ill-for- 
tune of his shot, bawled to him to hurry. 

“Come, Jack,” said Shelton, “run for it ! Ere Hugh 
can hale his barge across, or the pair of ’em can get it 
righted, we may be out of cry.” 

And adding example to his words, he began to run, 
dodging among the willows, and in marshy places leaping 
from tussock to tussock. He had no time to look for his 
direction ; aU he could do was to turn his back upon the 
river, and put all his heart to running. 

Presently, however, the ground began to rise, which 
showed him he was still in the right way, and soon after 
they came forth upon a slope of solid turf, where elms 
began to mingle with the willows. 

But here Matcham, who had been dragging far into the 
rear, threw himself fairly down. 

“Leave me, Dickl” he cried, pantingly; “I can no 
more.” 


48 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


Dick tiimed, and came back to where his companion lay. 

“ Nay, Jack, leave thee ! ” he cried. “ That were a 
knave’s trick, to be sure, when ye risked a shot and a duck- 
ing, ay, and a drowning too, to save my life. Drowning, 
in sooth ; for why I did not pull you in along with me, the 
saints alone can tell ! ” 

“ Nay,” said Matcham, “ I would ’a’ saved us both, good 
Dick, for I can swim.” 

“ Can ye so ? ” cried Dick, with open eyes. It was the 
one manly accomplishment of which he was himself in- 
capable. In the order of the things that he admired, next 
to having killed a man in single fight came swimming. 
“Well,” he said, “here is a lesson to despise no man. I 
promised to care for you as far as Holy wood, and, by the 
rood, Jack, y’ are more capable to care for me.” 

“Well, Dick, we’re friends now,” said Matcham. 

“Nay, I never was unfriends,” answered Dick. “Y’ 
are a brave lad in your way, albeit something of a milksop, 
too. I never met your like before this day. But, prithee, 
fetch back your breath, and let us on. Here is no place 
for chatter.” 

“ My foot hurts shrewdly,” said Matcham. 

“ Nay, I had forgot your foot,” returned Dick. “Well, 
we must go the gentlier. I would I knew rightly where 
we were. I have clean lost the path ; yet that may be for 
the better, too. An they watch the ferry, they watch the 
path, belike, as well. I would Sir Daniel were back with 
two score men he would sweep me these rascals as the 


THE FEN FERRY. 


49 


wind sweeps leaves. Come, Jack, lean ye on my shoulder, 
ye poor shrew. Nay, y’ are not tall enough. What age 
are ye, for a wager? — twelve?” 

“ Nay, I am sixteen,” said Matcham. 

“ Y’ are poorly grown to height, then,” answered Dick. 
“ But take my hand. We shall go softly, never fear. I 
owe you a life ; I am a good repayer. Jack, of good or 
evil.” 

They began to go forward up the slope. 

“We must hit the road, early or late,” continued Dick ; 
“ and then for a fresh start. By the mass ! but y’ ’ave a 
rickety hand. Jack. If I had a hand like that, I would 
think shame. I tell you,” he went on, with a sudden 
chuckle, “ I swear by the mass I believe Hugh Ferryman 
took you for a maid.” 

“Nay, never ! ” cried the other, coloring high. 

“A* did, though, for a wager ! ” Dick exclaimed. “ Small 
blame to him. Ye look liker maid than man ; and I tell 
you more — ^y’ are a strange-looking rogue for a boy ; but 
for a hussy. Jack, ye would be right fair — ye would. Ye 
would be well favored for a wench.” 

“Well,” said Matcham, “ye know right well that I am 
none.” 

“Nay, I know that ; I do but jest,” said Dick “Ye’ll 
be a man before your mother, Jack. What cheer, my bully ! 
Ye shall strike shrewd strokes. Now, which, I marvel, of 
you or me, shall be first knighted. Jack? for knighted I 
shall be, or die for ’t. Sir Richard Shelton, Knight : it 
4 


50 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


soundeth bravely. But ‘ Sir John Matcham’ soundeth not 
amisa” 

“Prithee, Dick, stop till I drink,” said the other, pausing 
where a little clear spring welled out of the slope into a 
gravelled basin no bigger than a pocket. “ And O, Dick, if 
I might come by anything to eat ! — my very heart aches 
with hunger.” 

“ Why, fool, did ye not eat at Kettley ? ” asked Dick. 

‘ ‘ I had made a vow — it was a sin I had been led into,” 
stammered Matcham ; “ but now, if it were but dry bread, 
I would eat it greedily.” 

“ Sit ye, then, and eat,” said Dick. “ while that I scout 
a little forward for the road.” And he took a wallet from 
his gii-dle, wherein were bread and pieces of dry bacon, 
and, while Matcham fell heartily to, struck farther forth 
among the trees. 

A little beyond there was a dip in the ground, where a 
streamlet soaked among dead leaves ; and beyond that, 
again, the trees were better grown and stood wider, and 
oak and beech began to take the place of willow and elm. 
The continued tossing and pouring of the wind among 
the leaves sufficiently concealed the sounds of his foot- 
steps on the mast ; it was for the ear what a moonless 
night is to the eye ; but for all that Dick went cautiously, 
slipping from one big trunk to another, and looking sharp- 
ly about him as he went. Suddenly a doe passed like a 
shadow through the underwood in front of him, and he 
paused, disgusted at the chance. This part of the wood 


A GBEENWOOD COMl'ANY. 


51 


had been certainly deserted, but now that the poor deer 
had run, she was like a messenger he should have sent be- 
fore him to announce his coming ; and instead of push- 
ing farther, he turned him to the nearest well-grown tree, 
and rapidly began to climb. 

Luck had served him well. The oak on which he had 
mounted was one of the tallest in that quarter of the 
wood, and easily out-topped its neighbour's by a fathom 
and a half ; and when Dick had clambered into the top- 
most fork and clung there, swinging dizzily in the gi*eat 
wind, he saw behind him the whole fenny plain as far as 
Kettley, and the Till wandering among woody islets, and in 
front of him, the white line of high-road winding through 
the forest. The boat had been righted— it was even now 
midway on the ferry. Beyond that there was no sign of 
man, nor aught moving but the wind. He was about to 
descend, when, taking a last view, his eye lit upon a string 
of moving points about the middle of the fen. Plainly a 
small troop was threading the causeway, and that at a 
good pace ; and this gave him some concern as he shinned 
vigorously down the trunk and returned across the wood 
for his companion. 


CHAPTER IV. 

A GREENWOOD COMPANY. 

Matcham was well rested and revived ; and the two lads, 
winged by what Dick had seen, hruried through the re- 


V 


52 THE BLACK ARROW. 

mainder of the outwood, crossed the road in safety, and 
began to mount into the high ground of Tunstall Forest. 
The trees grew more and more in groves, with heathy 
places in between, sandy, gorsy, and dotted with old yews. 
The ground became more and more uneven, full of pits 
and hillocks. And with every step of the ascent the wind 
still blew the shriller, and the trees bent before the gusts 
like fishing-rods. 

They had just entered one of the clearings, when Dick 
suddenly clapped down upon his face among the bram- 
bles, and began to ci'awl slowly backward towards the 
shelter of the grove. Matcham, in great bewilderment, 
for he could see no reason for this flight, still imitated his 
companion’s course ; and it was not until they had gained 
the harbour of a thicket that he turned and begged him 
to explain. 

For all reply, Dick pointed with his finger. 

At the far end of the clearing, a fir grew high above the 
neighbouring wood, and planted its black shock of foliage 
clear against the sky. For about fifty feet above the 
ground the trunk grew straight and solid like a column. 
At that level, it split into two massive boughs ; and in the 
fork, like a mast-headed seaman, there stood a man in a 
green tabard, spying far and wide. The sun glistened upon 
his hair ; with one hand he shaded his eyes to look abroad, 
and he kept slowly rolling his head from side to side, 
with the regularity of a machine. 

The lads exchanged glances. 


A GREENWOOD COMPANY. 


63 


“Let ug try to the left,” said Dick, “We had neaf 
fallen foully, Jack.” 

Ten minutes afterwards they struck into a beaten path. 

“Here is a piece of forest that I know not,” Dick re- 
marked. “ Where goeth me this track ? ” 

“ Let us even try,” said Matcham. 

A few yards further, the path came to the top of a ridge 
and began to go down abruptly into a cup-shaped hollow. 
At the foot, out of a thick wood of flowering hawthorn, 
two or three roofless gables, blackened as if by Are, and a 
single tall chimney marked the ruins of a house. 

“What may this be?” whispered Matcham. 

“Nay, by the mass, I know not,” answered Dick. “I 
am all at sea. Let us go warily.” 

With beating hearts, they descended through the haw- 
thorns. Here and there, they passed signs of recent cul- 
tivation ; fruit trees and pot herbs ran wild among the 
thicket ; a sun-dial had fallen in the grass ; it seemed they 
were treading what once had been a garden. Yet a little 
farther and they came forth before the ruins of the house. 

It had been a pleasant mansion and a strong, A dry 
ditch was dug deep about it ; but it was now choked 
with masonry, and bridged by a fallen rafter. The two 
farther walls still stood, the sun shining through their 
empty windows ; but the remainder of the building had 
collapsed, and now lay in a great cairn of ruin, grimed 
with Are. Already in the interior a few plants were spring 
ing green among the chinks. 


54 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


*‘NowI bethink me,” whispered Dick, “this must be 
Grimstone. It was a hold of one Simon Malmesbury ; Sir 
Daniel was his bane ! ’Twas Bennet Hatch that burned 
it, now five years agone. In sooth, ’twas pity, for it was a 
fair house.” 

Down in the hollow, where no wind blew, it was both 
warm and still ; and Matcham, laying one hand upon Dick’s 
arm, held up a warning finger. 

• “ Hist ! ” he said. 

Then came a strange sound, breaking on the quiet. It 
was twice repeated ere they recognized its nature. It w^as 
the sound of a big man clearing his throat ; and just then 
a hoarse, un tuneful voice broke into singing. 

“ Then up and spake the master, the king of the outlaws: 

‘ What make ye here, my merry men, among the greenwood 
shaws ? ’ 

And Gamelyn made answer — he looked never adown : 

‘ O, they must need to walk in wood that may not walk in 
town 1 ’ ’* 

The singer paused, a faint clink of iron followed, and 
then silence. 

The two lads stood looking at each other. Whoever he 
might be, their invisible neighbour was just beyond the 
ruin. And suddenly the colour came into Matcham ’s face, 
and next moment he had crossed the fallen rafter, and was 
climbing cautiously on the huge pile of lumber that filled 
the interior of the roofless house. Dick would have with- 
held him, had he been in time ; as it was, he was fain to 
follow. 


A GREENWOOD COMPANE. 


55 


Right in the corner of the ruin, two rafters had fallen 
crosswise, and protected a clear space no larger than a pew 
in church. Into this the lads silently lowered themselves. 
There they were perfectly concealed, and through an ar- 
row-loophole commanded a view upon the farther side. 

Peering through this, they were struck stiff with terror 
at their predicament. To retreat was impossible ; they 
scarce dared to breathe. Upon the very margin of the 
ditch, not thirty feet from where they crouched, an iron 
caldron bubbled and steamed above a glowing fire ; and 
close by, in an attitude of listening, as though he had 
caught some sound of their clambering among the ruins, 
a tall, red-faced, battered-looking man stood poised, an 
iron spoon in his right hand, a horn and a formidable 
dagger at his belt. Plainly this was the singer ; plainly 
he had been stirring the caldron, when some incautious 
step among the lumber had fallen upon his ear. A little 
fui’ther off, another man lay slumbering, rolled in a brown 
cloak, with a butterfly hovering above his face. All this 
was in a clearing white with daisies ; and at the extreme 
verge, a bow, a sheaf of arrows, and part of a deer’s car- 
case, hung upon a flowering hawthorn. 

Presently the fellow relaxed from his attitude of atten- 
tion, raised the spoon to his mouth, tasted its contents, 
nodded, and then fell again to stirring and singing. 

“ ‘ O, they must need to walk in wood that may not 
walk in town,’ ” he croaked, taking up his song where he 
had left it. 


66 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


“ O, sir, we walk not here at all an evil thing to do. 

But if we meet vrith the good king’s deer to shoot a shaft into. ” 

Still as he sang, he took from time to time anothei 
spoonful of the broth, blew upon it, and tasted it, with all 
the airs of an experienced cook. At length, apparently, 
he judged the mess was ready ; for taking the horn from 
his girdle, he blew three modulated calls. 

The other fellow awoke, rolled over, brushed away the 
butterfly, and looked about him. 

“ How now, brother ? ” he said. “ Dinner ? ” 

“ Ay, sot, ” replied the cook, “ dinner it is, and a dry 
dinner, too, with neither ale nor bread. But there is lit- 
tle pleasure in the greenwood now ; time was when a good 
fellow could live here like a mitred abbot, set aside the 
rain and the white frosts ; he had his heart’s desire both 
of ale and wine. But now are men’s spirits dead ; and 
this John Amend-All, save us and guard us ! but a stuffed 
booby to scare crows withal.” 

“Nay,” returned the other, “y’ are too set on meat and 
drinking. Lawless. Bide ye a bit ; the good time cometh.” 

“Look ye,” returned the cook, “I have even waited for 
this good time sith that I was so high. I have been a grey 
friar ; I have been a king’s archer ; I have been a shipman, 
and sailed the salt seas ; and I have been in greenwood 
before this, forsooth! and shot the king’s deer. What 
cometh of it ? Naught ! I were better to have bided in 
the cloister. John Abbot availeth more than John Amend* 
All. By ’r Lady ! here they come.” 


A GKEENWOOD COMPANY. 


57 


One after another, tall, likely fellows began to stroll into 
the lawn. Each as he came produced a knife and a horn 
cup, helped himself from the caldron, and sat down upon 
the grass to eat. They were very variously equipped and 
armed ; some in rusty smocks, and with nothing but a 
knife and an old bow ; others in the height of forest gal- 
lantry, all in Lincoln green, both hood and jerkin, with 
dainty peacock arrows in their belts, a horn upon a bald- 
rick, and a sword and dagger at their sides. They cama 
in the silence of hunger, and scarce growled a salutation, 
but fell instantly to meat. 

There were, perhaps, a score of them already gathered, 
when a sound of suppressed cheering arose close by among 
the hawthorns, and immediately after five or six wood- 
men carrying a stretcher debouched upon the lawn. A 
tall, lusty fellow, somewhat grizzled, and as brown as a 
smoked ham, walked before them with an air of some au- 
thority, his bow at his back, a bright boar-spear in his 
hand. 

“ Lads ! ” he cried, “ good fellows all, and my right 
meri-y friends, y’ have sung this while on a dry whistle 
and lived at little ease. But what said I ever ? Abide 
Foi-tune constantly ; she turneth, tumeth swift. And 
lo ! here is her httle firstling — even that good creature, 
ale ! ” 

There was a murmur of applause as the bearers set 
down the stretcher and displayed a goodly cask. 

“And now haste ye, boys,” the man continued. 


68 


THE BLACK AEROW. 


“There is work toward. A handful of archers are but 
now come to the ferry ; murrey and blue is their wear ; 
they are our butts — they shall all taste arrows — no man of 
them shall struggle through this wood. For, lads, we 
are here some fifty strong, each man of us most foully 
wronged ; for some they have lost lands, and some friends ; 
and some they have been outlawed — all oppressed ! Who, 
then, hath done this evil ? Sir Daniel, by the rood ! 
Shall he then profit? shall he sit snug in our houses? 
shall he till our fields ? shall he suck the bone he robbed 
us of ? I trow not. He getteth him strength at law ; he 
gaineth oases ; nay, there is one case he shall not gain — 
I have a writ here at my belt that, please the saints, shall 
conquer him.” 

Lawless the cook was by this time already at his second 
horn of ale. He raised it, as if to pledge the speaker. 

“ Master EUis,” he said, “ y’ are for vengeance — well it 
becometh you ! — but your poor brother o’ the greenwood, 
that had never lands to lose nor friends to think upon, 
looketh rather, for his poor part, to the profit of the thing. 
He had liever a gold noble and a pottle of canary wine 
than all the vengeances in jpurgatory.” 

“Lawless,” replied the other, “to reach the Moat 
House, Sir Daniel must pass the forest. We shall make 
that passage dearer, pardy, than any battle. Then, when 
he hath got to earth with such ragged handful as escapeth 
us — all his great friends fallen and fled away, and none to 
give him aid — we shall beleaguer that old fox about, and 


A GREENWOOD COMPANY. 


59 


great shall be the fall of him. ’Tis a fat buck ; he will 
make a dinner for us all. ” 

“ Ay,” returned Lawless, “ I have eaten many of these 
dinners beforehand ; but the cooking of them is hot work, 
good Master Elhs. And meanwhile what do we ? We 
make black arrows, we write rhymes, and we drink fair 
cold water, that discomfortable drink.” 

“ Y’ are untrue. Will Lawless. Ye still smell of the 
Grey Friars’ buttery ; greed is your undoing,” answered 
Ellis. “We took twenty pounds from Appleyard. We 
took seven marks from the messenger last night. A day 
ago we had fifty from the merchant.” 

“And to-day,” said one of the men, “ I stopped a fat 
pardoner riding apace for Holywood. Here is his purse.” 

EUis counted the contents. 

“ Fivescore shillings ! ” he grumbled. “ Fool, he had 
more in his sandal, or stitched into his tippet. Y’ are but 
a child, Tom Cuckow ; ye have lost the fish.” 

But, for all that, EUis pocketed the purse with non- 
chalance. He stood leaning on his boar-spear, and looked 
round upon the rest. They, in various attitudes, took 
greedily of the venison pottage, and liberally washed it 
down with ale. This was a good day ; they were in luck ; 
but business pressed, and they were speedy in their eat- 
ing. The first-comers had by this time even despatched 
their dinner. Some lay down upon the grass and feU in- 
stantly asleep, like boa-constrictors ; others talked to- 
gether, or overhauled their weapons ; EUid one, whose 


60 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


humour was particularly gay, holding forth an ale-hom, 
began to sing : 

“ Here is no law in good green shaw, 

Here is no lack of meat ; 

’Tis merry and quiet, with deer for our diet, 

In summer, when all is sweet. 

Come winter again, with wind and rain — 

Come winter, with snow and sleet. 

Get home to your places, with hoods on your faces, 

And sit by the fire and eat. ” 

All this while the two lads had listened and lain close ; 
only Richard had unslung his cross-bow, and held ready 
in one hand the windac, or grappling-iron that he used to 
bend it. Otherwise they had not dared to stir ; and this 
scene of forest life had gone on before their eyes like a 
scene upon a theatre. But now there came a strange in- 
terruption. The tall chimney which overtopped the re- 
mainder of the ruins rose right above their hiding-place. 
There came a whistle in the air, and then a sounding 
smack, and the fragments of a broken aiTow fell about 
their ears. Some one from the upper quarters of the 
wood, perhaps the very sentinel they saw posted in the 
fir, had shot an arrow at the chimney-top. 

Matcham could not restrain a little cry, which he in- 
stantly stifled, and even Dick started with surprise, and 
dropped the windac from his fingers. But to the fellows 
on the lawn, this shaft was an expected signal. They 
were aU afoot together, tightening their belts, testing 


'A GREENWOOD COMPANY. 


61 


their bow-strings, loosening sword and dagger in the 
sheath. Ellis held up his hand ; his face had suddenly 
assumed a look of savage energy ; the white of his eyes 
shone in his sun-brown face. 

“ Lads,” he said, “ ye know your places. Let not one 
man’s soul escape you. Appleyard was a whet before a 
meal ; but now we go to table. I have three men whom 
I will bitterly avenge — Harry Shelton, Simon Malmesbury, 
and ” — striking his broad bosom — “ and Ellis Duckworth, 
by the mass ! ” 

Another man came, red with hurry, through the thorns. 
“ ’Tis not Sir Daniel ! ” he panted. “ They are but 
seven. Is the arrow gone ? ” 

“It struck but now,” replied Ellis. 

“ A murrain ! ” cried the messenger. “ Methought I 
heard it whistle. And I go dinnerless ! ” 

In the space of a minute, some running, some walking 
sharply, according as their stations were nearer or farther 
away, the men of the Black Arrow had all disappeared 
from the neighbourhood of the ruined house ; and the cal- 
dron, and the fire, which was now burning low, and the 
dead deer’s carcase on the hawthorn, remained alone to 
testify they had been there. 


62 


THE BLACK ARROW. ; 


CHAPTER V. 

"bloody as the hunter.” 

The lads lay quiet till the last footstep had melted on 
the wind. Then they arose, and with many an ache, for 
they were weary with constraint, clambered through the 
ruins, and reorossed the ditch upon the rafter. Matcham 
had picked up the windac and went first, Dick following 
stiffly, with his cross-bow on his arm. 

“ And now,” said Matcham, “ forth to Holywood.” 

" To Holywood ! ” cried Dick, “ when good fellows 
stand shot ? Not I ! I would see you hanged first. Jack ! ” 

" Ye would leave me, would ye ? ” Matcham asked. 

“ Ay, by my sooth ! ” returned Dick. “ An I be not in 
time to warn these lads, I will go die with them. What ! 
would ye have me leave my own men that I have lived 
among. I trow not ! Give me my windac.” 

But there was nothing further from Matcham ’s mind. 

" Dick,” he said, " ye sware before the saints that ye 
would see me safe to Holywood. Would ye be forsworn ? 
Would you desert me — a perjurer ? ” 

“ Nay, I sware for the best,” returned Dick. “ I meant 
it too ; but now ! But look ye Jack, turn again with me. 
Let me but warn these men, and, if needs must, stand 
shot with them ; then shall all be clear, and I will on 
again to Holywood and purge mine oath.” 


63 


“bloody as the huntek.” 

“ Ye but deride me,” answered Matcham. “ These men 
ye go to succour are the same that hunt me to my m in .” 

Dick scratched his head. 

“I cannot help it, Jack,” he said. “Here is no remedy. 
What would ye ? Ye run no great peril, man ; and these 
are in the way of death. Death ! ” he added. ‘JiThink 
of it ! AVhat a murrain do ye keep me here for ? Give 
me the windac. Saint George ! shall they all die ? ” 

“Richard Shelton,” said Matcham, looking him squarely 
in the face, “ would ye, then, join party with Sir Daniel ? 
Have ye not ears ? Heard ye not this Ellis, what he said ? 
or have ye no heart for your own kindly blood and the 
father that men slew? ‘Harry Shelton,’ he said ; and Sir 
Harry Shelton was your father, as the sun shines in 
heaven.” 

“ What would ye ? ” Dick cried again. “ Would ye 
have me credit thieves ? ” 

“ Nay, I have heard it before now,” returned Matcham. 
“ The fame goeth currently, it was Sir Daniel slew him. 
He slew him under oath ; in his own house he shed the 
innocent blood. Heaven wearies for the avenging on’t ; 
and you — the man’s son — ye go about to comfort and de- 
fend the miu’derer ! ” 

“ Jack,” cried the lad, “ I know not. It may be ; what 
know I ? But, see here : This man hath bred me up and 
fostered me, and his men I have hunted with and played 
among ; and to leave them in the hour of peril — O, man, 
if I did that, I were stark dead to honour ! Nay, Jack, 


64 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


ye would not ask it; ye would not wish me to be 
base.” 

“But your father, Dick?” said Matcham, somewhat 
wavering. “Your father? and your oath to me? Ye 
took the saints to witness.” 

“ My father ? ” cried Shelton. “ Nay, he would have 
me go ! If Sir Daniel slew him, when the hour comes this 
hand shall slay Sir Daniel ; but neither him nor his will I 
desert in peril. And for mine oath, good Jack, ye shall 
absolve me of it here. For the lives’ sake of many men 
that hurt you not, and for mine honour, ye shall set me 
free.” 

“ I, Dick ? Never ! ” returned Matcham. “ An ye 
leave me, y’ are forsworn, and so I shall declare it.” 

“ My blood heats,” said Dick. “ Give me the windac 1 
Give it me ! ” 

“ rU not,” said Matcham. “ I’ll save you in your teeth.” 

“ Not ? ” cried Dick. “ I’ll make you ! ” 

“ Try it,” said the other. 

They stood, looking in each other’s eyes, each ready for 
a spring. Then Dick leaped ; and though Matcham 
turned instantly and fled, in two bounds he was over- 
taken, the windac was twisted from his grasp, he waa 
thrown roughly to the ground, and Dick stood across him, 
flushed and menacing, with doubled fist. Matcham lay 
where he had fallen, with his face in the grass, not think 
ing of resistance. 

Dick bent his bow. 


“bloody as the hunter.” 65 

“ 111 teach you ! ” he cried, fiercely. “ Oath or no oath, 
ye may go hang for me ! ” 

And he turned and began to nin. Matcham was on hia 
feet at once, and began running after him. 

“ What d’ye want ? ” cried Dick, stopping. " What 
make ye after me ? Stand off ! ” 

“I will follow an I please,” said Matcham. “This wood 
is free to me.” 

“Stand back, by’r Lady ! ” returned Dick, raising his bow. 

“ Ah, y’ are a brave boy ! ” retorted Matcham. “ Shoot ! ” 

Dick lowered his weapon in some confusion. 

“ See here,” he said. “ Y’ have done me ill enough. 
Go, then. Go your way in fair wise ; or, whether I will 
or not, I must even drive you to it.” 

“Well,” said Matcham, doggedly, “y’ are the stronger. 
Do your worst. I shall not leave to follow thee, Dick, 
unless thou makest me,” he added. 

Dick was almost beside himself. It went against hia 
heart to beat a creature so defenceless ; and, for the life 
of him, he knew no other way to rid himself of this tm- 
welcome and, as he began to think, perhaps untrue com* 
panion. 

“ Y’ are mad, I think,” he cried. “ Fool-fellow, I am 
hasting to your foes ; as fast as foot can carry me, go I 
thither.” 

“ I care not, Dick,” replied the lad. “ If y’ are bound 
to die, Dick, I’ll die too. I would liever go with you tc 
prison than to go free without you.” 

5 


66 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


** Well,” returned the other, “ I may stand no longer 
prating. Follow me, if ye must ; but if ye play me false, 
it shall but little advance you, mark ye that. Shalt have 
a quan’el in thine inwards, boy.” 

So saying, Dick took once more to his heels, keeping in 
the margin of the thicket and looking briskly about him 
as he went. At a good pace he rattled out of the dell, 
and came again into the more open quarters of the wood. 
To the left a little eminence appeared, spotted with gol- 
den gorse, and crowned with a black tuft of firs. 

“I shall see from there,” he thought, and struck for it 
across a heathy clearing. 

He had gone but a few yards, when Matcham touched 
him on the arm, and pointed. To the eastward of the 
summit there was a dip, and, as it were, a valley passing 
to the other side ; the heath was not yet out ; aU the 
ground was rusty, like an unscoured buckler, and dotted 
sparingly with yews ; and there, one following another, 
Dick saw half a score green jerkins mounting the ascent, 
and marching at their head, conspicuous by his boar- 
spear, Ellis Duckworth in person. One after another 
gained the top, showed for a moment against the sky, 
and then dipped upon the further side, until the last was 
gone. 

Dick looked at Matcham with a kindlier eye. 

“Soy’ are to be true to me. Jack?” he asked. “I 
thought ye were of the other party.” 

Matcham began to sob. 


67 


“bloody as the hunter.” 

“ What cheer ! ” cried Dick. “Now the saints behold 
us ! would ye snivel for a word ? ” 

“Ye hurt me,” sobbed Matcham. “Ye hurt me when 
ye threw me down. Y’ are a coward to abuse your 
strength.” 

“ Nay, that is fool’s talk,” said Dick, roughly. “ Y’ had 
no title to my wiudac. Master John. I would ’a’ done 
right to have well basted you. If ye go with me, ye must 
obey me ; and so, come.” 

Matcham had half a thought to stay behind ; but, see- 
ing that Dick continued to scour full-tilt towards the emi- 
nence and not so much as looked across his shoulder, he 
soon thought better of that, and began to run in turn. 
But the ground was very difficult and steep ; Dick had 
already. a long start, and had, at any rate, the lighter heels, 
and he had long since come to the summit, crawled for- 
ward through the firs, and ensconced himself in a thick 
tuft of gorse, before Matcham, panting like a deer, rejoined 
him, and lay down in silence by his side. 

Below, in the bottom of a considerable valley, the short 
cut from Tunstall hamlet wound downwards to the ferry. 
It was well beaten, and the eye followed it easily from 
point to point. Here it was bordered by open glades ; 
there the forest closed upon it ; every hundred yards it ran 
beside an ambush. Far down the path, the sun shone on 
seven steel salets, and from time to time, as the trees 
opened, Selden and his men could be seen riding briskly, 
still bent upon Sir Daniel’s mission. The wind had some* 


68 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


what fallen, but still tussled merrily with the trees, and, 
perhaps, had Appleyard been there, he would have drawn 
a warning from the troubled conduct of the birds. 

“ Now, mark,” Dick whispered. “ They be already well 
advanced into the wood ; their safety lieth rather in con- 
tinuing forward. But see ye where this wide glade run- 
neth down before us, and in the midst of it, these two 
score trees make like an island ? There were their safety. 
An they but come sound as far as that, I will make shift 
to warn them. But my heart misgiveth me ; they are but 
seven against so many, and they but carry cross-bows. 
The long-bow. Jack, will have the uppermost ever.” 

Meanwhile, Selden and his men still wound up the 
path, ignorant of their danger, and momently drew nearer 
hand. Once, indeed, they paused, drew into a gi’oup, and 
seemed to point and listen. But it was something from 
far away across the plain that had arrested their attention 
— a hollow growl of cannon that came, from time to time, 
upon the wind, and told of the great battle. It was worth 
a thought, to be sure ; for if the voice of the big guns 
were thus become audible in Tunstall Forest, the fight 
must have rolled ever eastward, and the day, by conse- 
quence, gone sore against Sir Daniel and the lords of the 
dark rose. 

But presently the little troop began again to move for- 
ward, and came next to a very open, heathy portion of the 
way, where but a single tongue of forest ran down to join 
the road. They were but just abreast of this, when an ar- 


“bloody as the huntee.” 69 

- row shone flying. One of the men threw up his arms, his 
horse reared, and both fell and struggled together in a 
mass. Even from where the boys lay they could hear the 
rumour of the men’s voices crying out ; they could see the 
startled horses prancing, and, presently, as the troop be- 
gan to recover from their first surprise, one fellow begin- 
ning to dismount. A second aiTOw from somewhat far- 
ther off glanced in a Avide arch ; a second rider bit the 
dust. The man who was dismounting lost hold upon the 
rein, and his horse fled galloping, and dragged him by the 
foot along the i*oad, bumping from stone to stone, and 
battered by the fleeing hoofs. The four who still kept the 
saddle instantly broke and scattered ; one wheeled and 
rode, shrieking, towards the ferry ; the other three, with 
loose rein and flying raiment, came galloping up the road 
from Tunstall. From every clump they passed an aiTOw 
sped. Soon a horse fell, but the rider found his feet and 
continued to pursue his comrades till a second shot des- 
patched him. Another man fell ; then another horse ; out 
of the whole troop there was but one fellow left, and he 
on foot ; only, in different directions, the noise of the gal- 
loping of three riderless horses was dying fast into the dis* 
tance. 

All this time not one of the assailants had for a moment 
shown himself. Here and there along the path, horse or 
man rolled, undespatched, in his agony ; but no merciful 
enemy broke cover to put them from their pain. 

The solitary survivor stood bewildered in the road be- 


70 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


side his fallen charger. He had come the length of that 
broad glade, with the island of timber, pointed out by 
Dick. He was not, perhaps, five hundred yards from 
where the boys lay hidden ; and they could see him 
plainly, looking to and fro in deadly expectation. But 
nothing came ; and the man began to pluck up his cour- 
age, and suddenly unslung and bent his bow. At the same 
time, by something in his action, Dick recognized Selden. 

At this offer of resistance, from all about him in the 
covert of the woods there went up the sound of laughter. 
A score of men, at least, for this was the very thickest of 
the ambush, joined in this cruel and untimely mirth. 
Then an arrow glanced over Selden’s shoulder ; and he 
leaped and i-an a little back. Another dart struck quiver- 
ing at his heel. He made for the cover. A third shaft 
leaped out right in his face, and fell short in front of him. 
And then the laughter was repeated loudly, rising and re- 
echoing from different thickets. 

It was plain that his assailants were but baiting him, as 
men, in those days, baited the poor bull, or as the cat 
still trifles with the mouse. The skirmish was well over ; 
farther down the road, a fellow in green was already 
calmly gathering the arrows ; and now, in the evil pleas- 
ure of their hearts, they gave themselves the spectacle of 
their poor fellow-sinner in his torture. 

Selden began to understand ; he uttered a roar of anger, 
shouldered his cross-bow, and sent a quarrel at a ven- 
ture into the wood. Chance favoured him, for a slight 


“bloody as the htjntek.” 71 

cry responded. Then, throwing down his weapon, Selden 
began to run before him up the glade, and almost in a 
straight line for Dick and Matcham. 

The companions of the Black Aitow now began to 
shoot in earnest. But they were properly served ; their 
chance had past ; most of them had now to shoot against 
the sun ; and Selden, as he ran, bounded from side to 
side to baffle and deceive their aim. Best of all, by turn- 
ing up the glade he had defeated their preparations ; 
there were no marksmen posted higher up than the one 
whom he had just killed or wounded ; and the confusion 
of the foresters’ counsels soon became apparent. A whistle 
soimded thrice, and then again twice. It was repeated 
from another quarter. The woods on either side became 
full of the sound of people bursting through the under- 
wood ; and a bewildered deer ran out into the open, 
stood for a second on three feet, with nose in air, and 
then plunged again into the thicket. 

Selden still ran, bounding ; ever and again an arrow 
followed him, but still would miss. It began to appear 
as if he might escape. Dick had his bow armed, ready to 
support him ; even Matcham, forgetful of his interest, 
took sides at heart for the poor fugitive ; and both lads 
glowed and trembled in the ardour of their hearts. 

He was within fifty yards of them, when an arrow 
struck him and he fell. He was up again, indeed, upon 
the instant ; but now he ran staggering, and, like a blind 
man, turned aside from his direction. 


72 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


Dick leaped to his feet and waved to him. 

“ Here ! ” he cried. “ This way ! here is help 1 Nay, 
run, fellow — run ! ” 

But just then a second arrow struck Selden in the shoul- 
der, between the plates of his brigandine, and, piercing 
through his jack, brought him, like a stone, to earth. 

“ O, the poor heart ! ” cried Matcham, with clasped 
hands. 

And Dick stood petrified upon the hill, a mark for 
archery. 

Ten to one he had speedily been shot — for the foresters 
were furious with themselves, and taken unawares by 
Dick’s appearance in the rear of their position — but in- 
stantly, out of a quarter of the wood surprisingly near to 
the two lads, a stentorian voice arose, the voice of Ellis 
Duckworth. 

“ Hold ! ” it roared. “ Shoot not ! Take him alive 1 
It is young Shelton — Harry’s son.” 

And immediately after a shrill whistle sounded several 
times, and was again taken up and repeated farther off. 
The whistle, it appeared, was John Amend- All’s battle 
trumpet, by which he published his directions. 

“ Ah, foul fortune ! ” cried Dick. “ We are undone. 
Swiftly, Jack, come swiftly ! ” 

And the pair turned and ran back through the open 
pine clump that covered the summit of the hill. 


TO THE day’s end. 


73 


CHAPTEE VL 

TO THE day’s end. 

It was, indeed, high time for them to run. On every 
side the company of the Black Arrow was making for the 
hill. Some, being better runners, or having open groimd 
to run upon, had far outstripped the others, and were al- 
ready close upon the goal ; some, following valleys, had 
spread out to right and left, and outflanked the lads on 
either side. 

Dick plunged into the nearest cover. It was a tall 
grove of oaks, firm under foot and clear of underbrush, 
and as it lay down hill, they made good speed. There 
followed next a piece of open, which Dick avoided, hold- 
ing to his left. Two minutes after, and the same obstacle 
arising, the lads followed the same course. Thus it fol- 
lowed that, while the lads, bending continually to the left, 
drew nearer and nearer to the high road and the river 
which they had crossed an hour or two before, the great 
bulk of their pursuers were leaning to the other hand, and 
running towards Tunstall. 

The lads paused to breathe. There was no sound of 
pursuit. Dick put his ear to the ground, and still there 
was nothing ; but the wind, to be sure, still made a tur- 
moil in the trees, and it was hard to make certain. 

“ On again,” said Dick ; and, tired as they were, and 


74 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


Matcham limping with his injured foot, they pulled them, 
selves together, and once more pelted down the hill. 

Three minutes later, they were breasting through a low 
thicket of evergreen. High overhead, the tall trees made 
a continuous roof of foliage. It was a pillared grove, as 
high as a cathedral, and except for the hollies among 
which the lads were struggling, open and smoothly 
swarded. 

On the other side, pushing through the last fringe of 
evergreen, they blundered forth again into the open twi- 
light of the grove. 

“ Stand ! ” cried a voice. 

And there, between the huge stems, not fifty feet be- 
fore them, they beheld a stout fellow in green, sore blown 
with running, who instantly drew an arrow to the head 
and covered them. Matcham stopped with a cry ; but 
Dick, without a pause, ran straight upon the forester, 
drawing his dagger as he went. The other, whether he 
was startled by the daring of the onslaught, or whether he 
was hampered by his orders, did not shoot ; he stood 
wavering ; and before he had time to come to himself, 
Dick bounded at his throat, and sent him sprawling back- 
ward on the turf. The an-ow went one way and the bow 
another with a sounding twang. The disarmed forester 
grappled his assailant ; but the dagger shone and de- 
scended twice. Then came a couple of groans, and then 
Dick rose to his feet again, and the man lay motionless, 
stabbed to the heart. 


TO THE day’s end. 


75 


“ On ! ” said Dick ; and he once more pelted forward, 
Matcham trailing in the rear. To say truth, they made 
but poor speed of it by now, labouring dismally as they 
ran, and catching for their breath like fish. Matcham had 
a cruel stitch, and his head swam ; and as for Dick, his 
knees were like lead. But they kept up the form of run- 
ning with undiminished courage. 

Presently they came to the end of the grove. It stopped 
abruptly ; and there, a few yards before them, was the 
high road from Risingham to Shoreby, lying, at this point, 
between two even walls of forest. 

At the sight Dick paused ; and as soon as he stopped 
running, he became aware of a confused noise, which rap- 
idly grew louder. It was at first like the rush of a very 
high gust of wind, but soon it became more definite, and 
resolved itself into the galloping of horses ; and then, in 
a flash, a whole company of men-at-arms came driving 
round the corner, swept before the lads, and were gone 
again upon the instant. They rode as for their lives, in 
complete disorder ; some of them were wounded ; rider- 
less horses galloped at their side with bloody saddles. 
They were plainly fugitives from the great battle. 

The noise of their passage had scarce begun to die away 
towards Shoreby, before fresh hoofs came echoing in their 
wake, and another deserter clattered down the road ; this 
time a single rider and, by his splendid armour, a man 
of high degree. Close after him there followed several 
baggage- waggons, fleeing at an imgainly canter, the drivers 


76 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


flailing at the horses as if for life. These must have run 
early in the day ; but their cowardice was not to save 
them. For just before they came abreast of where the 
lads stood wondering, a man in hacked armour, and seem- 
ingly beside himself with fury, overtook the waggons, and 
with the truncheon of a sword, began to cut the drivers 
down. Some leaped from their places and plunged into 
the wood ; the others he sabred as they sat, cursing them 
the while for cowards in a voice that was scarce human. 

All this time the noise in the distance had continued to 
increase ; the rumble of carts, the clatter of horses, the 
cries of men, a great, confused rumour, came swelling on 
the wind ; and it was plain that the rout of a whole army 
was pouring, like an inundation, down the road. 

Dick stood sombre. He had meant to follow the high- 
way till the turn for Holywood, and now he had to change 
his plan. But above all, he had recognized the colours of 
Earl Risingham, and he knew that the battle had gone 
finally against the rose of Lancaster. Had Sir Daniel 
joined, and was he now a fugitive and ruined ? or had he 
deserted to the side of York, and was he forfeit to hon- 
our? It was an ugly choice. 

“ Come,” he said, sternly ; and, turning on his heel, he 
began to walk forward through the grove, with Matcham 
limping in his rear. 

For some time they continued to thread the forest in 
silence. It was now growing late ; the sun was setting in 
the plain beyond Kettley ; the tree-tops overhead glowed 


TO THE day’s end. 


Ti 


golden ; but the shadows had begun to grow darker and 
the chill of the night to fall, 

“ If there were anything to eat ! ” cried Dick, suddenly, 
pausing as he spoke, 

Matcham sat down and began to weep. 

“ Ye can weep for your own supper, but when it was to 
save men’s lives, your heart was hard enough,” said Dick, 
contemptuously. “ Y’ ’ave seven deaths upon your con- 
science, Master John ; I’ll ne’er forgive you that.” 

“ Conscience ! ” cried Matcham, looking fiercely up. 
“ Mine ! And ye have the man’s red blood upon your 
dagger ! And wherefore did ye slay him, the poor soul? 
He drew his aiTOw, but he let not fly ; he held you in his 
hand, and spared you ! ’Tis as brave to kill a kitten, as a 
man that not defends himself.” 

Dick was struck dumb. 

“I slew him fair. I ran me in upon his bow,” he cried. 
“It was a coward blow,” returned Matcham. “ Y’ are 
but a lout and bully. Master Dick ; ye but abuse advan- 
tages ; let there come a stronger, we will see you truckle 
at his boot ! Ye care not for vengeance, neither — for 
your father’s death that goes unpaid, and his poor ghost 
that clamoureth for justice. But if there come but a poor 
creature in your hands that lacketh skill and strength, 
and would befriend you, down she shall go ! ” 

Dick was too furious to observe that “ she.” 

“Marry!” he cried, “and here is news! Of any two 
the one will still be stronger. The better man throweth 


T8 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


the worse,, and the worse is well served. Ye deserve a 
belting, Master Matcham, for your ill-guidance and iin- 
thankfulness to meward ; and what ye deserve ye shall 
have.” 

And Dick, who, even in his angriest temper, still pre- 
served the appearance of composure, began to unbuckle 
his belt. 

“ Here shall be your supper,” he said, grimly. 

Matcham had stopped his tears ; he was as white as a 
sheet, but he looked Dick steadily in the face, and never 
moved. Dick took a step, swinging the belt. Then he 
paused, embarrassed by the large eyes and the thin, 
weary face of his companion. His courage began to sub. 
side. 

“Say ye were in the wrong, then,” he said, lamely. 

“Nay,” said Matcham, “I was in the right. Come, 
cruel ! I be lame ; I be weary ; I resist not ; I ne’er did 
thee hurt ; come, beat me — coward I ” 

Dick raised the belt at this last provocation ; but 
Matcham winced and drew himself together with so cruel 
an apprehension, that his heart failed him yet again. The 
strap fell by his side, and he stood irresolute, feeling like 
a fool. 

“A plague upon thee, shrew ! ” he said. “An ye be so 
feeble of hand, ye should keep the closer guard upon your 
tongue. But I’ll be hanged before I beat you ! ” and he 
put on his belt again. “Beat you I will not,” he con- 
tinued ; “ but forgive you ? — never. I knew ye not ; ye 


TO THE day’s end. 


Y9 


were my master’s enemy ; I lent you my horse ; my din- 
ner ye have eaten ; y’ ’ave called me a man o’ wood, a 
cowai-d, and a bully. Nay, by the mass ! the measure is 
filled, and runneth over. ’Tis a great thing to be weak, I 
ti’ow : ye can do yom* worst, yet shall none punish 3^011; 
ye may steal a man’s weapons in the hour of need, yet 
may the man not take his own again ; — y’ are weak, for- 
sooth ! Nay, then, if one cometh charging at you with a 
lance, and crieth he is weak, ye must let him pierce your 
body through ! Tut ! fool words ! ” 

“ And yet ye beat me not,” returned Matdmm. 

“ Let be,” said Dick — “ let be. I will instruct you. Y’ 
'ave been ill-nurtured, methinks, and yet ye have the mak- 
ings of some good, and, beyond all question, saved me 
from the river. Nay, I had forgotten it ; I am as thank- 
less as thyself. But, come, let us on. An we be for Holy- 
wood this night, ay, or to-morrow early, we had best set 
forward speedily.” 

But though Dick had talked himself back into his usual 
good-humour, Matcham had forgiven him nothing. His 
violence, the recollection of the forester whom he had slain 
— above all, the vision of the upraised belt, were things 
not easily to be forgotten. 

“I will thank you, for the form’s sake,” said Matcham. 
“ But, in sooth, good Master Shelton, I had liever find my 
way alone. Here is a wide wood ; prithee, let each 
choose his path ; I owe you a dinner and a lesson. Fare 
ye well I” 


80 


THE BLACK ARKOW. 


“Nay,” cried Dick, “if that be your tune, so be it, and 
a plague be with you ! ” 

Each turned aside, and they began walking off severally, 
with no thought of the direction, intent solely on their 
quarrel. But Dick had not gone ten paces ere his name 
was called, and Matcham came running after. 

“Dick,” he said, “it were unmannerly to part so coldly. 
Here is my hand, and my heart with it. For all that 
wherein you have so excellently served and helped me — 
not for the form, but from the heart, I thank you. Fare 
ye right well.” 

“ Well, lad,” returned Dick, taking the hand which was 
offered him, “ good speed to you, if speed you may. But 
I misdoubt it shrewdly. Y’ are too disputatious.” 

So then they separated for the second time ; and pres- 
ently it was Dick who was running after Matcham. 

“ Here,” he said, “ take my cross-bow ; shalt not go un- 
armed.” 

“ A cross-bow ! ” said Matcham. “ Nay, boy, I have 
neither the strength to bend nor yet the skill to aim with 
it. It were no help to me, good boy. But yet I thank 
you.” 

The night had now fallen, and under the trees they 
could no longer read each other’s face. 

“ I will go some little way with you,” said Dick. “ The 
night is dark. I would fain leave you on a path, at least 
My mind misgiveth me, y’ are likely to be lost.” 

Without any more words, he began to walk forward, and 


TO THE day’s end. 


81 


the other once more followed him. The blackness grew 
thicker and thicker ; only here and there, in open places, 
they saw the sky, dotted with small stars. In the distance, 
the noise of the rout of the Lancastrian army stiU contin- 
ued to be faintly audible ; but with every step they left it 
farther in the rear. 

At the end of half an hour of silent progress they came 
forth upon a broad patch of heathy open. It glimmered 
in the light of the stars, shaggy with fern and islanded 
with clumps of yew. And here they paused and looked 
upon each other. 

“ Y’ are weary ? ” Dick said. 

“ Nay, I am so weary,” answered Matcham, “ that me- 
thinks I could lie down and die.” 

“ I hear the chiding of a river,” returned Dick. “Let 
us go so far forth, for I am sore athii'st.” 

The ground sloped down gently ; and, sure enough, in 
the bottom, they found a little murmuring river, running 
among willows. Here they threw themselves down to- 
gether by the brink ; and putting their mouths to the 
level of a starry pool, they drank their fill. 

“Dick,” said Matcham, “it may not be. I can no 
more.” 

“ I saw a pit as we came down,” said Dick. “ Let us 
lie down therein and sleep,”;; ;'*i [“V ' 

“ Nay, but with all my heart! cried Matcham. 

Tha pit was sandy and dry ; a shock ,pf bri?,mbles hung 
upon one hedge, and made a partial shelter ; and there 
6 


82 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


the two lads lay down, keeping close together for the sake 
of warmth, their quarrel all forgotten. And soon sleep 
fell upon them like a cloud, and under the dew and stars 
they rested peacefully. 


CHAPTER m 

THE HOODED FACE. 

They awoke in the grey of the morning ; the birds were 
not yet in full song, but twittered here and there among 
the woods ; the sun was not yet up, but the eastern sky 
was barred with solemn colours. Half starved and over- 
weary as they were, they lay without moving, sunk in a de- 
lightful lassitude. And as they thus lay, the clang of a 
bell fell suddenly upon their ears. 

“ A bell ! ” said Dick, sitting up. “ Can we be, then, so 
near to Holy wood ? ” 

A little after, the bell clanged again, but this time some- 
what nearer hand ; and from that time forth, and still 
drawing nearer and nearer, it continued to sound brokenly 
abroad in the silence of the morning. 

“Nay, what should this betoken ? ” said Dick, who was 
now broad awake. 

“It is some one walking,” returned Matcham, "and the 
bell toUeth ever as he moves.” 

** I see that well,” said Dick. " But wherefore ? What 


THE HOODED FACE. 


83 


maketh he in Tunsiall Woods? Jack,” he added, “laugh 
at me an ye will, but I. like not the hollow sound of it.” 

“Nay,” said Matcham, with a shiver, “it hath a doleful 
note. An the day were not come ” 

But just then the bell, quickening its pace, began to 
ring thick and hurried, and then it gave a single hammer- 
ing jangle, and was silent for a space. 

“ It is as though the bearer had run for a pater-noster 
while, and then leaped the river,” Dick observed. 

“ And now beginneth he again to pace soberly forward,” 
added Matcham. 

“Nay,” returned Dick — “nay, not so soberly, Jack. 
’Tis a man that walketh you right speedily. ’Tis a man in 
some fear of his life, or about some hurried business. See 
ye not how swift the beating draweth near ? ” 

“ It is now close by,” said Matcham. 

They were now on the edge of the pit ; and as the pit 
itself was on a certain eminence, they commanded a view 
over the gi-eater proportion of the clearing, up to the thick 
woods that closed it in. 

The daylight, which was very clear and grey, showed 
them a riband of white footpath wandering among the 
gorse. It passed some hundred yards from the pit, and 
ran the whole lengih of the clearing, east and west. By 
the line of its course, Dick judged it should lead more or 
less directly to the Moat House. 

Upon this path, stepping forth from the margin of the 
wood, a white figm’e now appeared. It paused a little, and 


84 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


seemed to look about ; and then, at a slow pace, and bent 
almost double, it began to draw near across the heath. 
At every step the bell clanked. Face, it had none ; a 
white hood, not even pierced with eye-holes, veiled the 
head ; and as the creature moved, it seemed to feel its way 
with the tapping of a stick. Fear fell upon the lads, as 
cold as death. 

“ A leper ! ” said Dick, hoarsely. 

“His touch is death,” said Matcham. “ Let us run.” 

“Not so,” returned Dick. “See ye not? — he is stone 
blind. He guideth him with a staff. Let us lie still ; the 
wind bloweth towards the path, and he will go by and 
hurt us not. Alas, poor soul, and we should rather pity 
him ! ” 

“ I will pity him when he is by,” replied Matcham. 

The blind leper was now about half-way towards them, 
and just then the sun rose and shone full on his veiled 
face. He had been a tall man before he was bowed by 
his disgusting sickness, and even now he walked with a 
vigorous step. The dismal beating of his bell, the patter- 
ing of the stick, the eyeless screen before his countenance, 
and the knowledge that he was not only doomed to death 
and suffering, but shut out for ever from the touch of his 
fellow-men, filled the lads’ bosoms with dismay ; and at 
every step that brought him nearer, their courage and 
strength seemed to desert them. 

As he came about level with the pit, he paused, and 
turned his face full upon the lads. 


THE HOODED FACE. 


85 


“ Mary be my shield ! He sees us ! ” said Matcham, 
faintly. 

“Hush!” whispered Dick. “He doth but hearken. 
He is blind, fool ! ” 

The leper looked or listened, whichever he was really 
doing, for some seconds. Then he began to move on 
again, but presently paused once more, and again turned 
and seemed to gaze upon the lads. Even Dick became 
dead-white and closed his eyes, as if by the mere sight he 
might become infected. But soon the bell sounded, and 
this time, without any farther hesitation, the leper crossed 
the remainder of the little heath and disappeared into the 
covert of the woods. 

“ He saw us,” said Matcham. “I could swear it ! ” 

“ Tut ! ” returned Dick, recovering some sparks of cour- 
age. “ He but heard us. He was in fear, poor soul ! 
An ye were blind, and walked in a perpetual night, ye 
would start yourself, if ever a twig rustled or a bird cried 
‘ Peep.’ ” 

“Dick, good Dick, he saw us,” repeated Matcham. 
“ When a man hearkeneth, he doth not as this man ; he 
doth otherwise, Dick. This was seeing ; it was not hear- 
ing, He means foully. Hark, else, if his bell be not 
stopped ! ” 

Such was the case. The bell rang no longer. 

“Nay,” said Dick, “I like not that. Nay,” he cried 
again, “ I like that little. What may this betoken ? Let 
us go, by the mass 1 ” 


86 


rm? BLACK ARROW. 


“ He hath gone east,” added Matcham. “ Good Dick, 
let us go westward straight, I shall not breathe till I have 
my back turned upon that leper.” 

“ Jack, y’ are too cowardly,” replied Dick. “ We shall 
go fair for Holywood, or as fair, at least, as I can guide 
you, and that will be due north.” 

They were afoot at once, passed the stream upon some 
stepping-stones, and began to mount on the other side, 
which was steeper, towards the margin of the wood. The 
ground became veiy uneven, full of knolls and hollows ; 
trees grew scattered or in clumps ; it became difficult to 
choose a path, and the lads somewhat wandered. They 
were weary, besides, with yesterday’s exertions and the 
lack of food, and they moved but heavily and dragged their 
feet among the sand. 

Presently, coming to the top of a knoll, they were aware 
of the leper, some hundred feet in front of them, crossing 
the line of their march by a hollow. His bell was silent, 
his staff no longer tapped the ground, and he went before 
him \vith the swift and assured footsteps of a man who 
sees. Next moment he had disappeared into a little 
thicket. 

The lads, at the first glimpse, had crouched behind a 
tuft of gorse ; there they lay, horror-struck. 

“Certain, he pursueth us,” said Dick — “certain! He 
held the clapper of his bell in one hand, saw ye ? that it 
should not sound. Now may the saints aid and guide us, 
fo^ I have no strength to combat pestilence ! ” 


THE HOODED FACE. 87 

*' What maketh he ? ” cried Matcham. “ What doth he 
want ? Who ever heard the like, that a leper, out of mere 
malice, should pursue unfortunates ? Hath he not his bell 
to that very end, that people may avoid him ? Dick, there 
is below this something deeper.” 

“Nay, I care not,” moaned Dick ; “the strength is gone 
out of me ; my legs are like water. The saints be mine 
assistance ! ” 

“Would ye lie there idle ? ” cried Matcham. “ Let us 
back into the open. We have the better chance ; he can- 
not steal upon us unawares.” 

“ Not I,” said Dick. “ My time is come, and peradven- 
ture he may pass us by.” 

“Bend me, then, your bow ! ” cried the other. “What! 
will ye be a man?” 

Dick crossed himself, “ Would ye have me shoot upon 
a leper?” he cried. “The hand would fail me. Nay, 
now,” he added — “nay, now, let be ! With sound men I 
will fight, but not with ghosts and lepers. Which this is, 
I wot not. One or other. Heaven be our protection 1 ” 

“Now,” said Matcham, “if this be man’s courage, what 
a poor thing is man ! But sith ye will do naught, let us 
lie close.” 

Then came a single, broken jangle on the belL 

“ He hath missed his hold upon the clapper,” whispered 
Matcham. “ Saints ! how near he is ! ” 

But Dick answered never a word ; his teeth were near 
chattering. 


88 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


Soon they saw a piece of the white robe between some 
bushes ; then the leper’s head was tlmust forth from be- 
hind a trunk, and he seemed narrowly to scan the neigh- 
bourhood before he once again withdrew. To their 
stretched senses, the whole bush appeared alive with rust- 
lings and the creak of twigs ; and they heard the beating 
of each other’s heart. 

. Suddenly, with a cry, the leper sprang into the open 
close by, and ran straight upon the lads. They, shriek- 
ing aloud, separated and began to run different ways. 
But their horrible enemy fastened upon Matcham, ran 
him swiftly down, and had him almost instantly a prison- 
er. The lad gave one scream that echoed high and far 
over the forest, he had one spasm of struggling, and 
then all his limbs relaxed, and he fell limp into his cap- 
tor’s arms. 

Dick heard the cry and turned. He saw Matcham fall ; 
and on the instant his spirit and his strength revived. 
With a cry of pity and anger, he unslung and bent his 
arblast. But ere he had time to shoot, the leper held up 
his hand. 

“ Hold your shot, Dickon ! ” cried a familiar voice. 

Hold your shot, mad wag ! Know ye not a friend ? ” 

And then laying down Matcham on the turf, he undid 
the hood from off his face, and disclosed the features of 
Sir Daniel Brackley. 

“ Sir Daniel ! ” cried Dick. 

“Ay, by the mass, Sir Daniel !” returned the knight 


THE HOODED FACE. 


89 


“Would ye shoot upon your guardian, rogue? But here 

is this” And there he broke off, and pointing to 

Matcham, asked : “ How call ye him, Dick ? ” 

“Nay,” said Dick, “ I call him Master Matcham. Know 
ye him not ? He said ye knew him ! ” 

“Ay,” replied Sir Daniel, “I know the lad;” and he 
chuckled. “ But he has fainted ; and, by my sooth, he 
might have had less to faint for ! Hey, Dick ? Did I put 
the fear of death upon you ? ” 

“Indeed, Sir Daniel, ye did that,” said Dick, and sighed 
again at the mere recollection. “ Nay, sir, saving your re- 
spect, I had as lief V met the devil in person ; and to 
speak truth, I am yet all a-quake. But what made ye, 
sir, in such a guise ? ” 

Sir Daniel’s brow grew suddenly black with anger. 

“ What made 1 ? ” he said. “ Ye do well to mind me 
of it ! What ? I skulked for my poor life in my own 
wood of Tunstall, Dick. We were ill sped at the battle ; 
we but got there to be swept among the rout. Wliere be 
all my good men-at-arais ? Dick, by the mass, I know 
not ! We were swept down ; the shot fell thick among 
us ; I have not seen one man in my own colours since I 
saw three fall. For myself, I came sound to Shoreby, and 
being mindful of the Black Arrow, got me this gown and 
bell, and came softly by the path for the Moat House. 
There is no disguise to be compared with it ; the jingle 
of this bell would scare me the stoutest outlaw in the for- 
est ; they would all txirn pale to hear it. At length I came 


90 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


by you and Matcham. I could see but evilly through this 
same hood, and was not sure of you, being chiefly, and 
for many a good cause, astonished at the finding you to- 
gether. Moreover, in the open, where I had to go slowly 
and tap with my staff, I feared to disclose myself. But 
see,” he added, “ this poor shrew begins a little to revive. 
A little good canary will comfort me the heart of it.” 

The knight, from under his long dress, produced a stout 
bottle, and began to rub the temples and wet the lips of 
the patient, who returned gradually to consciousness, and 
began to roll dim eyes from one to another. 

“ What cheer. Jack ! ” said Dick. “ It was no leper, 
after all ; it was Sir Daniel ! See ! ” 

“ Swallow me a good draught of this,” said the knight. 
“This will give you manhood. Thereafter, I will give 
you both a meal, and we shall all three on to Tunstall. 
For, Dick,” he continued, laying forth bread and meat 
upon the grass, “I will avow to you, in all good con- 
science, it irks me sorely to be safe between four walls. 
Not since I backed a horse have I been pressed so hard ; 
peril of life, jeopai’dy of land and livelihood, and to sum 
up, all these losels in the wood to hunt me down. But I 
be not yet shent. Some of my lads will pick me their 
way home. Hatch hath ten fellows ; Selden, he had six. 
Nay, we shall soon be strong again ; and if I can but buy 
my peace with my right fortunate and undeserving Lord 
of York, why, Dick, we’ll be a man again and go a-horse* 
back I ” 


THE HOODED FACE. 


91 


And so saying, the knight filled himself a horn of ca- 
nary, and pledged his ward in dumb show. 

“Selden,” Dick faltered — “Selden” And h« 

paused again. 

Sir Daniel put down the wine untasted. 

“How!” he cried, in a changed voice. “Selden? 
Speak I What of Selden ? ” 

Dick stammered forth the tale of the ambush and the 
massacre. 

The knight heard in silence ; but as he listened, his 
covmtenance became convulsed with I’age and grief. 

“ Now here,” he cried, “ on my right hand, I swear to 
avenge it ! If that I fail, if that I spill not ten men’s souls 
for each, may this hand wither from my body ! I broke 
this Duckworth like a rush ; I beggared him to his door ; 
I burned the thatch above his head ; I drove him from 
this country ; and now, cometh he back to beard me ? 
Nay, but, Duckworth, this time it shall go bitter hard ! ” 

He was silent for some time, his face working. 

“Eat!” he cried, suddenly. “And you here,” he add- 
ed to Matcham, “ swear me an oath to follow straight to 
the Moat House.” 

“I will pledge mine honour,” replied Matcham. 

“ What make I with your honour ? ” ci’ied the knight. 
“ Swear me upon your mother’s welfare ! ” 

Matcham gave the required oath ; and Sir Daniel read- 
justed the hood over his face, and prepared his bell and 
staflt To see him once more in that appalling travesty 


92 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


somewhat revived the horror of his two companiona 
But the knight was soon upon his feet. 

“ Eat with despatch,” he said, “ and follow me yarely 
to mine house.” 

And with that he set forth again into the woods ; and 
presently after the bell began to sound, numbering his 
steps, and the two lads sat by their untasted meal, and 
heard it die slowly away up hill into the distance. 

“And so ye go to Tunstall? ” Dick inquired. 

“Yea, verily,” said Matcham, “when needs must! I 
am braver behind Sir Daniel’s back than to his face.” 

They ate hastily, and set forth along the path through 
the airy upper levels of the forest, where great beeches 
stood apart among green lawns, and the birds and squir- 
rels made merry on the boughs. Two hours later, they 
began to descend upon the other side, and already, among 
the tree-tops, saw before them the red walls and roofs of 
Tunstall House. 

“ Here,” said Matcham, pausing, “ ye shall take your 
leave of your friend Jack, whom y’ are to see no more. 
Come, Dick, forgive him what he did amiss, as he, for his 
part, cheerfully and lovingly forgiveth you.” 

“And wherefore so ? ” asked Dick. “ An we both go 
to Tunstall, I shall see you yet again, I trow, and that 
right often.” 

“Ye’ll never again see poor Jack Matcham,” replied the 
other, “that was so fearful and burthensome, and yet 
plucked you from the river ; ye’ll not see him more, 


THE HOODED EACE. 


93 


Dick, by mine honour ! ” He held his arms open, and the 
lads embraced and kissed. “ And, Dick,” continued 
Matcham, “ my spirit bodeth ill. Y’ are now to see a new 
Sir Daniel ; for heretofore hath all prospered in his hands 
exceedingly, and fortune followed him ; but now, methinks, 
when his fate hath come upon him, and he runs the ad- 
venture of his life, he will prove but a foul lord to both of 
us. He may be brave in battle, but he hath the liar’s eye ; 
there is fear in his eye, Dick, and fear is as cruel as the 
wolf ! We go down into that house. Saint Mary guide us 
forth again ! ” 

And so they continued their descent in silence, and 
came out at last before Sir Daniel’s forest stronghold, 
where it stood, low and shady, flanked with round towers 
and stained with moss and lichen, in the lilied waters of 
the moat. Even as they appeared, the doors were opened, 
the bridge lowered, and Sir Daniel himself, with Hatch 
and the parson at his side, stood ready to receive them. 


BOOK II.—THE MOAT HOUSE. 


CHAPTEE L 

DICK ASKS QUESTIONS. 

The Moat House stood not far from the rough forest 
road. Externally, it was a compact rectangle of red stone, 
flanked at each corner by a round tower, pierced for arch- 
ery and battlemented at the top. Within, it enclosed a 
narrow court. The moat was perhaps twelve feet wide, 
crossed by a single drawbridge. It was supplied with 
water by a trench, leading to a forest pool and com- 
manded, through its whole length, from the battlements 
of the two southern towers. Except that one or two tall 
and thick trees had been suffered to remain within half a 
bowshot of the walls, the house was in a good posture for 
defence. 

In the court, Dick found a part of the gamson, busy 
with preparations for defence, and gloomily discussing 
the chances of a siege. Some were making arrows, some 
sharpening swords that had long been disused ; but even 
as they worked, they shook their heads. 

Twelve of Sir Daniel’s party had escaped the battle, 
run the gauntlet through the wood, and come alive to the 


DICK ASKS QUESTIONS. 


95 


Moat House. But out of this dozen, three had been 
gi avely wounded : two at Kisinghamin the disorder of the 
rout, one by John Amend-All’s marksmen as he crossed 
the forest. This raised the force of the garrison, counting 
Hatch, Sir Daniel, and young Shelton, to twenty-two ef- 
fective men. And more might be continually expected to 
arrive. The danger lay not therefore in the lack of men. 

It was the terror of the Black Arrow that oppressed the 
spirits of the garrison. For their open foes of the party of 
York, in these most changing times, they felt but a far- 
away concern. “ The world,” as people said in those days, 
“ might change again ” before harm came. But for their 
neighbours in the wood, they trembled. It was not Sir 
Daniel alone who was a mark for hatred. His men, con- 
scious of impunity, had carried themselves cruelly through 
all the country. Harsh commands had been harshly ex- 
ecuted ; and of the little band that now sat talking in the 
court, there was not one but had been guilty of some act 
of oppression or barbarity. And now, by the fortune of 
war. Sir Daniel had become powerless to protect his in- 
struments ; now, by the issue of some hours of battle, at 
which many of them had not been present, they had all 
become punishable traitors to the State, outside the buck- 
ler of the law, a shrunken company in a poor fortress that 
was hardly tenable, and exposed upon all sides to the just 
resentment of their victims. Nor had there been lacking 
grisly advertisements of what they might expect 

At different periods of the evening and the night, no 


96 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


fewer than seven riderless horses had come neighing 
in terror to the gate. Two were from Selden’s troop ; 
five belonged to men who had ridden with Sir Daniel to 
the field. Lastly, a little before dawn, a spearman had 
come staggering to the moat side, pierced by three ar- 
rows ; even as they carried him in, his spirit had depart- 
ed ; but by the words that he uttered in his agony, he 
must have been the last survivor of a considerable com- 
pany of men. 

Hatch himself showed, under his sun-brown, the pallor 
of anxiety ; and when he had taken Dick aside and learned 
the fate of Selden, he fell on a stone bench and fairly wept. 
The others, from where they sat on stools or doorsteps in 
the sunny angle of the court, looked at him with wonder 
and alarm, but none ventured to inquire the cause of his 
emotion. 

“ Nay, Master Shelton,” said Hatch, at last — “ nay, but 
what said I ? We shall all go. Selden was a man of his 
hands ; he was like a brother to me. Well, he has gone 
second ; well, we shall all follow ! For what said their 
knave rhyme ? — ‘ A black arrow in each black heart.’ Was 
it not so it went ? Appleyard, Selden, Smith, old Hum- 
phrey gone ; and there lieth poor John Carter, ci-ying, poor 
sinner, for the priest.” 

Dick gave ear. Out of a low window, hard by where 
they were talking, groans and murmurs came to his ear. 

“Lieth he there ? ” he asked. 

“Ay, in the second porter’s chamber,” answered Hatch. 


DICK ASKS QUESTIONS. 


97 


“ We could not bear him further, soul and body were so 
bitterly at odds. At every step we lifted him, he thought 
to wend. But now, raethinks, it is the soul that suffereth. 
Ever for the priest he crieth, and Sir Oliver, I wot not why, 
still cometh not. ’Twill be a long shrift ; but poor Apple- 
yard and poor Selden, they had none.” 

Dick stooped to the window and looked in. The little 
cell was low and dark, but he could make out the wounded 
soldier lying moaning on his pallet. 

“ Carter, poor friend, how goeth it ? ” he asked. 

“ Master Shelton,” returned the man, in an excited 
whisper, “ for the dear light of heaven, bring the priest. 
Alack, I am sped ; I am brought very low down ; my hurt 
is to the death. Ye may do me no more service ; this shall 
be the last. Now, for my poor soul’s interest, and as a 
loyal gentleman, bestir you ; for I have that matter on my 
conscience that shall drag me deep.” 

He groaned, and Dick heard the grating of his teeth, 
whether in pain or terror. 

Just then Sii- Daniel appeared upon the threshold of the 
hall. He had a letter in one hand. 

“ Lads,” he said, “ we have had a shog, we have had a 
tumble ; wherefore, then, deny it ? Rather it imputeth 
to get speedily again to saddle. This old Harry the Sixt 
has had the undermost. Wash we, then, our hands of 
him. I have a good friend that rideth next the duke, the 
Lord of Wensleydale. Well, I have writ a letter to my 
friend, praying his good lordship, and offering large satis- 
7 


98 


thp: black arrow. 


faction for the past and reasonable surety for the futura 
Doubt not but he will ^ lend a favourable ear. A prayer 
without gifts is like a song without music : I surfeit him 
with promises, boys — I spare not to promise. What, then, 
IS lacking ? Nay, a great thing — wherefore should I de- 
ceive you? — a great thing and a difficult : a messenger to 
bear it The woods — y’ are not ignorant of that — lie 
thick with our ill-willers. Haste is most needful ; but 
without sleight and caution all is naught Which, then, 
of this company will take me this letter, bear me it to my 
Lord of Wensleydale, and bring me the answer back ?” 

One man instantly arose. 

“ I will, an't like you,” said he. “ I will even risk my 
carcase.” 

“Nay, Dicky Bowyer, not so,” retiimed the knight. “ It 
likes me not Y’ are sly indeed, but not speedy. Ye were 
a laggard ever.” 

“ An’t be so. Sir Daniel, here am I,” cried another. 

“ The saints forfend ! ” said the knight “ Y’ are speedy, 
but not sly. Ye would blunder me headforemost into 
John Amend-All’s camp. I thank you both for your good 
courage ; but, in sooth, it may not be.” 

Then Hatch offered himself, and he also was refused. 

“I want you here, good Bennet ; y are my right hand, 
indeed,” returned the knight ; and then several coming 
forward in a group. Sir Daniel at length selected one and 
gave him the letter. 

“ Now,” he said, “ upon your good speed and better 


DICK ASKS QUESTIONS. 


99 


discretion we do all depend. Bring me a good answer 
back, and before three weeks, I will have purged my forest 
of these vagabonds that brave us to our faces. But mark 
it well, Throgmorton : the matter is not easy. Ye must 
steal forth under night, and go like a fox ; and how ye 
are to cross Till I know not, neither by the bridge nor 
ferry.” 

“ I can swim,” returned Throgmorton. “ I will come 
soundly, fear not.” 

“ Well, friend, get ye to the buttery,” replied Sir Daniel. 
“ Ye shall swim first of all in nut-brown ale.” And with 
that he turned back into the hall. 

“ Sir Daniel hath a wise tongue,” said Hatch, aside, to 
Dick. “ See, now, where many a lesser man had glossed 
the matter over, he speaketh it out plainly to his company. 
Here is a danger, 'a saith, and here difficulty ; and jesteth 
in the very saying. Nay, by Saint Barbary, he is a bom 
captain ! Not a man but he is some deal heartened up 1 
See how they fall again to work.” 

This praise of Sir Daniel put a thought in the lad’s 
head. 

"Bennet,” he said, “how came my father by his end?” 

“Ask me not that,” replied Hatch. “I had no hand 
nor knowledge in it ; furthermore, I will even be silent. 
Master Dick. For look you, in a man’s own business there 
he may speak ; but of hearsay matters and of common 
talk, not so. Ask me Sir Oliver — ay, or Carter, if ye will ; 
not me.” 


100 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


And Hatch set off to make the rounds, leaving Dick in 
a muse. 

“ Wherefore would he not tell me ? ” thought the lad. 
“And wherefore named he Carter? Carter — nay, then 
Carter had a hand in it, perchance.” 

He entered the house, and passing some little way along 
a flagged and vaulted passage, came to the door of the cell 
where the hurt man lay groaning. At his entrance Carter 
started eagerly. 

“ Have ye brought the priest ? ” he cried. 

“Not yet awhile,” returned Dick. “ Y’ ’ave a word to 
tell me first. How came my father, Harry Shelton, by bis 
death ? ” 

The man’s face altered instantly. 

“ I know not,” he replied, doggedly. 

“ Nay, ye know well,” returned Dick. “ Seek not to 
put me by.” 

“ I tell you I know not,” repeated Carter. 

“ Then,” said Dick, “ ye shall die unshriven. Here am 
I, and here shall stay. There shall no priest come near 
you, rest assured. For of what avail is penitence, an ye 
have no mind to right those wrongs ye had a hand in ? and 
without penitence, confession is but mockery.” 

“ Ye say what ye mean not, Master Dick,” said Carter, 
composedly. “It is ill threatening the dying, and becom- 
eth you (to speak truth) little. And for as little as it com- 
mends you, it shall serve you less. Stay, an ye please. 
Ye will condemn my soul — ye shall learn nothing ! There 


DICK ASKS QUESTIONS. 


101 


is my last word to you.” And the wounded man turned 
upon the other side. 

Now, Dick, to say truth, had spoken hastily, and was 
ashamed of his threat. But he made one more effort. 

“ Carter,” he said, “ mistake me not. I know ye were 
but an instrument in the hands of others ; a churl must 
obey his lord ; I would not bear heavily on such an one. 
But I begin to learn upon many sides that this great duty 
heth on my youth and ignorance, to avenge my father. 
Prithee, then, good Carter, set aside the memory of my 
threatenings, and in pure goodwill and honest penitence 
give me a word of help.” 

The wounded man lay silent ; nor, say what Dick 
pleased, could he extract another word from him. 

“ Well,” said Dick, “ I will go call the priest to you as 
ye desired ; for howsoever ye be in fault to me or mine, I 
would not be willingly in fault to any, least of all to one 
upon the last change.” 

Again the old soldier heard him without speech or mo- 
tion ; even his groans he had suppressed ; and as Dick 
turned and left the room, he was filled with admiration 
for that rugged fortitude. 

“And yet,” he thought, “of what use is courage with- 
out wit? Had his hands been clean, he would have 
spoken ; his silence did confess the secret louder than 
words- Nay, upon all sides, proof floweth on me. Sir 
Daniel, he or his men, hath done this thing.” 

Dick paused in the stone passage with a heavy heart. 


102 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


At that hour, in the ebb of Sir Daniel’s fortune, when he 
was beleaguered by the archers of the Black Arrow and 
proscribed by the victorious Yorkists, was Dick, also, to 
turn upon the man who had nourished and taught him, 
who had severely punished, indeed, but yet unwearyingly 
protected his youth ? The necessity, if it should prove to 
be one, was cruel. 

" Pray Heaven he be innocent ! ” he said. 

And then steps sounded on the flagging, and Sir Oliver 
came gravely towards the lad. 

“ One seeketh you earnestly,” said Dick. 

“ I am upon the way, good Eichard,” said the priest. 
“ It is this poor Carter. Alack, he is beyond cure.” 

“ And yet his soul is sicker than his body,” answered 
Dick. 

“Have ye seen him?” asked Sir Oliver, with a manifest 
start. 

“I do but come from him,” replied Dick. 

“What said he? what said he?” snapped the priest, 
with extraordinary eagerness. 

“ He but cried for you the more piteously. Sir Oliver. 
It were well done to go the faster, for his hurt is griev- 
ous,” returned the lad. 

“I am straight for him,” was the reply. “Well, we 
have all our sins. We must all come to our latter day, 
good Eichard.” 

“ Ay, sir ; and it were well if we all came fairly,” an< 
swered Dick. 


DICK ASKS QUESTIONS. 


103 


The priest dropped his eyes, and with an inaudible 
benediction hurried on. 

“ He, too ! ” thought Dick — “ he, that taught me in 
piety ! Nay, then, what a world is this, if all that care for 
me be blood-guilty of my father’s death ? Vengeance 1 
Alas ! what a sore fate is mine, if I must be avenged upon 
my friends ! ” 

The thought put Matcham in his head. He smiled at 
the remembrance of his strange companion, and then won- 
dered where he was. Ever since they had come together 
to the doors of the Moat House the younger lad had dis- 
appeared, and Dick began to weary for a word with him. 

About an hour after, mass being somewhat hastily run 
through by Sir Oliver, the company gathered in the hall 
for dinner. It was a long, low apartment, strewn with 
green rushes, and the walls hung with arras in a design 
of savage men and questing bloodhounds ; here and there 
hung spears and bows and bucklers ; a fire blazed in the 
big chimney ; there were arras-covered benches round 
the waU, and in the midst the table, fairly spread, awaited 
the arrival of the diners. Neither Sir Daniel nor his lady 
made their appearance. Sir Oliver himself was absent, 
and here again there was no word of Matcham. Dick be- 
gan to grow alarmed, to recall his companion’s melan- 
choly forebodings, and to wonder to himself if any foul 
play had befallen him in that house. 

After dinner he found Goody Hatch, who was hurrying 
to my Lady Brackley. 


104 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


“Goody,” he said, “where is Master Matcham, I 
prithee? I saw ye go in with him when we arrived.” 

The old woman laughed aloud. 

“ Ah, Master Dick,” she said, “ y’ have a famous bright 
eye in your head, to be sure ! ” and laughed again. 

“ Nay, but where is he, indeed ? ” persisted Dick. 

“ Ye will never see him more,” she returned — “ never. 
It is sure.” 

“ An I do not,” returned the lad, “ I will know the rea- 
son why. He came not hither of his full free will ; such 
as I am, I am his best protector, and I will see him justly 
used. There be too many mysteries ; I do begin to weary 
of the game ! ” 

But as Dick was speaking, a heavy hand fell on his 
shoulder. It was Bennet Hatch that had come unper- 
ceived behind him. With a jerk of his thumb, the re- 
tainer dismissed his wife! 

“ Friend Dick,” he said, as soon as they were alone, 
“ are ye a moon-struck natural ? An ye leave not certain 
things in peace, ye were better in the salt sea than here 
in Tunstall Moat House. Y’ have questioned me ; y’ have 
baited Carter ; y’ have frighted the jack-priest with hints. 
Bear ye more wisely, fool ; and even now, when Sir Daniel 
calleth you, show me a smooth face for the love of wisdom. 
Y’ are to be sharply questioned. Look to your answers.” 

“ Hatch,” returned Dick, “ in all this I smell a guilty 
conscience.” 

“ An ye go not the wiser, ye will soon smell blood,” re. 


THIi TWO OATHS. 


105 


plied Bennet. “ I do but warn you. And here cometh 
one to call you.” 

And indeed, at that very moment, a messenger came 
across the court to summon Dick into the presence of Sir 
Daniel 


CHAPTER n. 

THE TWO OATHS. 

Sir Daniel was in the hall ; there he paced angrily be- 
fore the fire, awaiting Dick’s arrival. None was by except 
Sir Ohver, and he sat discreetly backward, thumbing and 
muttering over his breviary. 

“ Y’ have sent for me, Sir Daniel ? ” said young Shelton. 

“I have sent for you, indeed,” replied the knight. 
“ For what cometh to mine ears? Have I been to you so 
heavy a guardian that ye make haste to credit ill of me ? 
Or sith that ye see me, for the nonce, some worsted, do 
ye think to quit my party ? By the mass, your father 
was not so ! Those he was near, those he stood by, come 
wind or weather. But you, Dick, y’ are a fair-day friend, 
it seemeth, and now seek to cle^ y^rself of your alle- 
giance." _ 

“An’t please you,. Sir Daniel, not so,” returned Dick, 
firmly. “ I am grateful and faithful, where gratitude and 
faith we due. And before more is said, I thank you, and 


106 


THE BLACK AHROW. 


I thank Sir Oliver ; y’ have great claims upon me both— 
none can have more ; I were a hound if I forgot them.” 

“It is well,” said Sir Daniel; and then, rising into 
anger: “Gratitude and faith are words, Dick Shelton," 
he continued ; “ but I look to deeds. In this hour of my 
peril, when my name is attainted, when my lands are for- 
feit, when this wood is full of men that hunger and thirst 
for my destruction, what doth gratitude? what doth 
faith ? I have but a little company remaining ; is it 
grateful or faithful to poison me their hearts with your 
insidious whisperings? Save me from such gratitude’: 
But, come, now, what is it ye wish ? Speak ; we are here 
to answer. If ye have aught against me, stand forth and 
say it.” 

“ Sir,” replied Dick, “ my father fell when I was yet a 
child. It hath come to mine ears that he was foully done 
by. It hath come to mine ears — for I will not dissem- 
ble — that ye had a hand in his undoing. And in all ve- 
rity, I shall not be at peace in mine own mind, nor very 
clear to help you, till I have certain resolution of these 
doubts.” 

Sir Daniel sat down in a deep settle. He took his chin 
in his hand and looked at Dick fixedly. 

“ And ye think I would be guardian to the man’s son 
that I had murdered ? ” he asked. 

“Nay,” said Dick, “pardon me if I answer churlishly ; 
but indeed ye know right well a wardship is most profit- 
able. All these years have ye not enjoyed my revenues^ 


THE TWO OATHS. 


107 


and led my men ? Have ye not still my marriage ? I wot 
not what it may be worth — it is worth something. Par- 
don me again ; but if ye were base enough to slay a man 
under trust, here were, perhaps, reasons enough to move 
you to the lesser baseness.” 

“ When I was a lad of your years,” returned Sir Daniel, 
sternly, “ my mind had not so turned upon suspicions. 
And Sir Oliver here,” he added, “why should he, a priest, 
be guilty of this act ? ” 

“Nay, Sir Daniel,” said Dick, “but where the master 
biddeth there will the dog go. It is well known this 
priest is but your instrument. I speak very freely ; the 
time is not for courtesies. Even as I speak, so would I 
be answered. And answer get I none ! Ye but put more 
questions. I rede ye be ware. Sir Daniel ; for in this way 
ye will but nourish and not satisfy my doubts.” 

“ I will answer you fairly, Master Richard,” said the 
knight. “ Were I to pretend ye have not stirred my 
wrath, I were no honest man. But I will be just even in 
auger. Come to me with these words when y’ are grown 
and come to man’s estate, and I am no longer your guard- 
ian, and so helpless to resent them. Come to me then, 
and I will answer you as ye merit, with a buffet in the 
mouth. Till then ye have two courses : either swallow 
me down these insults, keep a silent tongue, and fight in 
the meanwhile for the man that fed and fought for your 
infancy ; or else — the door standeth open, the woods are 
full of mine enemies — go.” 


108 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


The spirit with which these words were uttered, the 
looks with which they were accompanied, staggered Dick ; 
and yet he could not but observe that he had got no an- 
swer. 

“ I desire nothing more earnestly, Sir Daniel, than to 
believe you,” he replied. “ Assure me ye are free from 
ibis.” 

“ Will ye take my word of honour, Dick ? ” inquired 
the knight. 

“ That would I,” answered the lad. 

“I give it you,” returned Sir Daniel. "Upon my word 
of honour, upon the eternal welfare of my spirit, and as I 
shall answer for my deeds hereafter, I had no hand nor 
portion in your father’s death.” 

He extended his hand, and Dick took it eagerly. 
Neither of them observed the priest, who, at the pronun- 
ciation of that solemn and false oath, had half arisen from 
his seat in an agony of horror and remorse. 

" Ah,” cried Dick, “ ye must find it in your great-heart- 
edness to pardon me ! I was a churl, indeed, to doubt 
of you. But ye have my hand upon it ; I will doubt no 
more.” 

“ Nay, Dick,” replied Sir Daniel, " y’ are forgiven. Ye 
know not the world and its calumnious nature.” 

" I was the more to blame,” added Dick, “ in that the 
rogues pointed, not directly at yourself, but at Sir Oliver.” 

As he spoke, he turned towards the priest, and paused 
in the middle of the last word. This taU, ruddy, coryu- 


THE TWO OATHS. 


109 


lent, high-stepping man had fallen, you might say, to 
pieces ; his colour was gone, his limbs were relaxed, his 
lips stammered prayers ; and now, when Dick’s eyes were 
fixed upon him suddenly, he cried out aloud, like some 
wild animal, and buried his face in his hands. 

Sir Daniel was by him in two strides, and shook 
him fiercely by the shoulder. At the same moment Dick’s 
suspicions reawakened. 

“Nay,” he said, “Sir Oliver may swear also. ’Twas 
him they accused.” 

“He shall swear,” said the knight. 

Sir Oliver speechlessly waved his arms. 

“ Ay, by the mass ! but ye shall swear,” cried Sir 
Daniel, beside himself with fuiy. “ Here, upon this book, 
ye shall swear,” he continued, picki.'g up the breviary, 
which had fallen to the ground. “Wn.it! Ye make me 
doubt you ! Swear, I say ; swear ! ” 

But the priest was still incapable of speech. His terror 
of Sir Daniel, his terror of perjury, risen to about an 
equal height, strangled him. 

And just then, through the high, stained-glass window 
of the hall, a black arrow crashed, and struck, and stuck 
quivering, in the midst of the long table. 

Sir Oliver, with a loud scream, fell fainting on the 
rushes ; while the knight, followed by Dick, dashed into 
the court and up the nearest corkscrew stair to the battle- 
ments. The sentries were all on the alert. The sun 
shone quietly on green lawns dotted with trees, and on 


110 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


the wooded hills of the forest which enclosed the view 
There was no sign of a besieger. 

“ Whence came that shot ? ” asked the knight. 

“ From yonder clump, Sir Daniel,” returned a senti- 
nel. 

The knight stood a little, musing. Then he turned to 
Dick. “Dick,” he said, “keep me an eye upon these men ; 
I leave you in charge here. As for the priest, he shall 
clear himself, or I will know the reason why. I do almost 
begin to share in your suspicions. He shall swear, trust 
me, or we shall prove him guilty.” 

Dick answered somewhat coldly, and the knight, giving 
him a piercing glance, hurriedly returned to the hall. 
His first glance was for the arrow. It was the first of 
these missiles he had seen, and as he turned it to and fro, 
the dark hue of it touched him with some fear. Again 
there was some writing : one word — “ Eai'thed.” 

“ Ay,” he broke out, “ they know I am home, then. 
Earthed ! Ay, but there is not a dog among them fit to 
dig me out.” 

Sir Oliver had come to himself, and now scrambled to 
his feet. 

“ Alack, Sir Daniel ! ” he moaned, “ y’ ’ave sworn ft. 
dread oath ; y’ are doomed to the end of time.” 

“ Ay,” returned the knight, “ I have sworn an oath, in- 
deed, thou chucklehead ; but thyself shalt swear a greater. 
It shall be on the blessed cross of Holywood. Look to 
it ; get the words ready. It shall be sworn to-night.” 


THE TWO OATHS. 


Ill 


** Now, may Heaven lighten you ! ” replied the priest ; 
“ may Heaven incline your heart from this iniquity ! ” 
“Look you, my good father,” said Sir Daniel, “ify* 
are for piety, I say no more ; ye begin late, that is all. 
But if y’ are in any sense bent upon wisdom, hear me. 
This lad beginneth to irk me like a wasp. I have a need 
for him, for I would sell his marriage. But I tell you, in 
all plainness, if that he continue to weary me, he shall go 
join his father. I give orders now to change him to the 
chamber above the chapel If that ye can swear your in- 
nocency with a good, solid oath and an assured counte- 
nance, it is well ; the lad will be at peace a little, and I will 
spare him. If that ye stammer or blench, or anyways 
boggle at the swearing, he will not believe you ; and 
by the mass, he shall die. There is for your thinking 
on.” 

“ The chamber above the chapel ! ” gasped the priest. 
“That same,” rejDlied the knight, “ So if ye desire to 
save him, save him ; and if ye desire not, prithee, go to, 
and let me be at peace I For an I had been a hasty man, 
I would already have put my sword through you, for your 
intolerable cowardice and folly. Have ye chosen ? Say ! ” 
“ I have chosen,” said the priest. “ Heaven pardon me, 
I will do evil for good, I will swear for the lad’s sake.” 

“ So is it best I ” said Sir Daniel “ Send for him, then, 
speedily. Ye shall see him alone. Yet I shall have an 
eye on you. I shall be here in the panel room.” 

The knight raised the arras and let it fall again behind 


112 


THE BLACK AEKOW. 


him. There was the sound of a spring opening ; then 
followed the creaking of trod stairs. 

Sir Oliver, left alone, cast a timorous glance upward at 
the arras-covered wall, and crossed himself with every ap- 
pearance of terror and contrition. 

“Nay, if he is in the chapel room,” the priest mur- 
mured, “ were it at my soul’s cost, I must save him.” 

Three minutes later, Dick, who had been summoned by 
another messenger, found Sir Oliver standing by the hall 
table, resolute and pale. 

“ Richard Shelton,” he said, “ ye have required an oath 
from me. I might complain, I might deny you ; but my 
heart is moved toward you for the past, and I wiU even 
content you as ye choose. By the true cross of Holy- 
wood, I did not slay your father.” 

“ Sir Oliver,” returned Dick, “ when first we read John 
Amend-All’s paper, I was convinced of so much. But 
suffer me to put two questions. Ye did not slay him ; 
granted. But had ye no hand in it ? ” 

“ None,” said Sir Oliver. And at the same time he be- 
gan to contort his face, and signal with his mouth and 
eyebrows, like one who desired to convey a warning, yet 
dared not utter a sound. 

Dick regarded him in wonder ; then he turned and 
looked all about him at the empty hall. 

“ What make ye ? ” he inquired. 

“ Why, naught,” returned the priest, hastily smoothing 
his countenance. “ I make naught ; I do but suffer ; I 


113 


TltK TWO OATHS. 

am sick. I — I — prithee, Dick, I must begone. On the 
true cross of Holywood, I am clean innocent alike of 
violence or treachery. Content ye, good lad. Fare- 
well ! ” 

And he made his escape from the apartment with un- 
usual alacrity. 

Dick remained rooted to the spot, his eyes wandering 
about the room, his face a changing picture of various 
emotions, wonder, doubt, suspicion, and amusement. 
Gradually, as his mind grew clearer, suspicion took the 
upper hand, and was succeeded by certainty of the worst. 
He raised his head, and, as he did so, violently started. 
High upon the wall there was the figure of a savage hunter 
woven in the tapestry. With one hand he held a horn to 
his mouth ; in the other he brandished a stout spear. 
His face was dark, for he was meant to represent an 
African, 

Now, here was what had startled Kichard Shelton. The 
sun had moved away from the hall windows, and at the 
same time the fire had blazed up high on the wide hearth, 
and shed a changeful glow upon the roof and hangings. 
In this light the figure of the black hunter had winked at 
him with a white eyelid. 

He continued staring at the eye. The light shone upon 
it like a gem ; it was liquid, it was alive. Again the white 
eyelid closed upon it for a fraction of a second, and the 
next moment it was gone. 

There could be no mistake. The live eye that had 
8 


X14 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


been watching him through a hole in the tapestry was 
gone. The firelight no longer shone on a reflecting 
surface. 

And instantly Dick awoke to the terrors of his position. 
Hatch’s warning, the mute signals of the priest, this eye 
that had observed him from the wall, ran together in his 
mind. He saw he had been put upon his trial, that he 
had once more betrayed his suspicions, and that, short of 
some miracle, he was lost 

“If I cannot get me forth out of this house,” he 
thought, “I am a dead man ! And this poor Matcham, 
too — to what a cockatrice’s nest have I not led him ! ” 

He was still so thinking, when there came one in haste, 
to bid him help in changing his arms, his clothing, and 
his two or three books, to a new chamber. 

“A new chamber?” he repeated. “Wherefore so? 
What chamber? ” 

“ ’Tis one above the chapel,” answered the messenger. 

“ It hath stood long empty,” said Dick, musing. “ What 
manner of room is it ? ” 

“Nay, a brave room,” returned the man. “But yet” 
—lowering hie voice — “ they call it haunted.” 

“Haunted?” repeated Dick, with a chill. “I have 
not heard of it. Nay, then, and by whom ? ” 

The messenger looked about him ; and then, in a low 
whisper, “By the sacrist of St. John’s,” he said. “They 
had him there to sleep one night, and in the morning — > 
whew !— he was gone. The devil had taken him. they 


THE ROOM OVER THE CHAPEL. 


115 


said ; the more betoken, he had drunk late the night be 
fore.” 

Dick followed the man with black forebodings. 


CHAPTER HL 

THE ROOM OVER THE CHAPEL. 

From the battlements nothing further was observed. 
The sun journeyed westward, and at last went down ; 
but, to the eyes of all these eager sentinels, no living 
thing appeared in the neighboui*hood of Tunstall House. 

When the night was at length fairly come, Throgmor- 
ton was led to a room overlooking an angle of the moat. 
Thence he was lowered with every precaution ; the ripple 
of his swimming was audible for a brief period ; then a 
black figure was observed to land by the branches of , a 
willow and crawl away among the grass. For some half 
hour Sir Daniel and Hatch stood eagerly giving ear ; but 
all remained quiet. The messenger had got away in safety. 

Sir Daniel’s brow grew clearer. He turned to Hatch. 

“ Bennet,” he said, “ this John Amend-All is no more 
than a man, ye see. He sleepeth. We will make a good 
end of him, go to ! ” 

All the afternoon and evening, Dick had been ordered 
hither and thither, one command following another, till 
he was bewildered with the number and the hurry of 


116 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


commissions. All that time he had seen no more of Sir 
Oliver, and nothing of Matcham ; and yet both the priest 
and the young lad ran continually in his mind. It was 
now his chief purpose to escape from Tunstall Moat 
House as speedily as might be ; and yet, before he went, 
he desired a word with both of these. 

At length, with a lamp in one hand, he mounted to his 
new apartment. It was large, low, and somewhat dark. 
The window looked upon the moat, and although it was 
so high up, it was heavily barred. The bed was luxuri- 
ous, with one pillow of down and one of lavender, and a 
red coverlet worked in a pattern of roses. All about the 
walls were cupboards, locked and padlocked, and con- 
cealed from view by hangings of dark-coloured arras. 
Dick made the round, lifting the arras, sounding the 
panels, seeking vainly to open the cupboards. He as- 
sured himself that the door was strong and the bolt solid 
then he set down his lamp upon a bracket, and once more 
looked all around. 

For what reason had he been given this chamber ? It 
was larger and finer than his own. Could it conceal a 
snare ? Was there a secret entrance ? Was it, indeed, 
haunted ? His blood ran a little chilly in his veins. 

Immediately over him the heavy foot of a sentry trod 
the leads. Below him, he knew, was the arched roof of 
the chapel ; and next to the chapel was the hall. Cer- 
tainly there was a secret passage in the hall ; the eye 
that had watched him from the arras gave him proof of 


THE BOOM OYEB THE CHAPEL. 


117 


that. Was it not more than probable that the passage 
extended to the chapel, and, if so, that it had an opening 
in his room ? 

To sleep in such a place, he felt, would be foolhardy. 
He made his weapons ready, and took his position in a 
corner of the room behind the door. If ill was intended, 
he would sell his life dear. 

The sound of many feet, the challenge, and the pass- 
word, sounded overhead along the battlements ; the watch 
was being changed. 

And just then there came a scratching at the door of 
the chamber ; it grew a little louder ; then a whisper : 

“ Dick, Dick, it is I ! ” 

Dick ran to the door, drew the bolt, and admitted 
Matcham. He was very pale, and carried a lamp in one 
hand and a drawn dagger in the other. 

“Shut me the door,” he whispered. “Swift, Dick! 
This house is full of spies ; I hear their feet follow me in 
the corridors ; I hear them breathe behind the arras.” 

“Well, content you,” returned Dick, “ it is closed. We 
are safe for this while, if there be safety anywhere within 
these walls. But my heart is glad to see you. By the 
mass, lad, I thought ye were sped ! Where hid ye ? ” 

“It matters not,” returned Matcham. “Since we be 
met, it matters not. But, Dick, are your eyes open ? 
Have they told you of to-morrow’s doings ? ” 

“Not they,” replied Dick. “ What make they to-mor- 
row ? ” 


118 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


“ To-morrow, or to-night, I know not,” said the other 
but one time or other, Dick, they do intend upon youi 
life. I had the proof of it ; I have heard them whisper ; 
nay, they as good as told me.” 

“Ay,” returned Dick, “is it so? I had thought aa 
much.” 

And he told him the day’s occurrences at length. 

When it was done, Matcham arose and began, in turn, 
to examine the apartment. 

“No,” he said, “there is no entrance visible. Yet ’tia 
a pure certainty there is one. Dick, I will stay by you. 
An y’ are to die, I will die with you. And I can help — 
look ! I have stolen a dagger — I will do my best ! And 
meanwhile, an ye know of any issue, any sally-port we 
could get opened, or any window that we might descend 
by, I will most joyfully face any jeopardy to flee with you.” 

“Jack,” said Dick, “ by the mass, Jack, y’ are the best 
soul, and the truest, and the bravest in all England I 
Give me your hand, Jack.” 

And he grasped the other’s hand in silence. 

“ I will tell you,” he resumed. “ There is a window, 
out of which the messenger descended ; the rope should 
still be in the chamber. ’Tis a hope.” 

“Hist ! ” said Matcham. 

Both gave ear. There was a sound below the floor { 
then it paused, and then began again. 

“ Some one walketh in the room below,” whispered 
llatcham. 


THE ROOM OVER THE CHAPEL. 


119 


Nay,” retm-ned Dick, “ there is no room below ; we 
are above the chapeL It is my murderer in the secret pas- 
sage. Well, let him come ; it shall go hard with him ; ” 
and he ground his teeth. 

“ Blow me the lights out,” said the other. “ Perchance 
he will betray himself.” 

They blew out both the lamps and lay still as death. 
The footfalls underneath were very soft, but they were 
clearly audible. Several times they came and went ; and 
then there was a loud jar of a key tm*ning in a lock, fol- 
lowed by a considerable silence. 

Presently the steps began again, and then, all of a sud- 
den, a chink of light appeared in the planking of the room 
in a far corner. It widened ; a trap-door was being 
opened, letting in a gush of light. They could see the 
strong hand pushing it up ; and Dick raised his cross- 
bow, waiting for the head to follow. 

But now there came an interruption. From a distant 
corner of the Moat House shouts began to be heard, and 
first one voice, and then several, crying aloud upon a 
name. This noise had plainly disconcerted the murderer, 
for the trap-door was silently lowered to its place, and the 
steps hurriedly returned, passed once more close below 
the lads, and died away in the distance. 

Here was a moment’s respite. Dick breathed deep, and 
then, and not till then, he gave eai- to the disturbance 
which had interrupted the attack, and which was now 
rather increasing than diminishing. All about the Moat 


120 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


House feet were running, doors were opening and slam 
ming, and still the voice of Sir Daniel towered above all 
this bustle, shouting for “ Joanna.” 

“ Joanna ! ” repeated Dick. “ Why, who the murrain 
should this be ? Here is no Joanna, nor ever hath been. 
What meaneth it ? ” 

Matcham was silent. He seemed to have drawn further 
away. But only a little faint starlight entered by the 
window, and at the far end of the apartment, where the 
pair were, the darkness was complete. 

“Jack,” said Dick, “I wot not where ye were all day. 
Saw ye this Joanna ? ” 

“ Nay,” returned Matcham, “ I saw her not.” 

“ Nor heard tell of her ? ” he pursued. 

The steps drew nearer. Sir Daniel was still roaring the 
name of Joanna from the courtyard. 

“ Did ye hear of her ? ” repeated Dick. 

“ I heard of her,” said Matcham. 

“ How your voice twitters ! What aileth you ? ” said 
Dick. “ ’Tis a most excellent good fortune, this Joanna ; 
it will take their minds from us.” 

“ Dick,” cried Matcham, “ I am lost ; we are both lost. 
Let us flee if there be yet time. They will not rest till 
they have found me. Or, see ! let me go forth ; when 
they have found me, ye may flee. Let me forth. Dick- 
good Dick, let me away ! ” 

She was groping for the bolt, when Dick at last com* 
prehended. 


THE ROOM OVER THE CHAPEL. 


121 


"By the mass!” he cried, “y’ are no Jack; y’ are 
Joanna Sedley ; y’ are the maid that would not marry 
me!” 

The girl paused, and stood silent and motionless. Dick, - 
too, was silent for a little ; then he spoke again. 

"Joanna,” he said, "y’ ’ave saved my life, and I have 
saved yours ; and we have seen tlood flow, and been 
friends and enemies — ay, and I took my belt to thrash 
you ; and all that time I thought ye were a boy. But now 
death has me, and my time’s out, and before I die I must 
say this : Y’ are the best maid and the bravest under 
heaven, and, if only I could live, I would marry you 
blithely ; and, live or die, I love you.” 

She answered nothing. 

" Come,” he said, “ speak up. Jack. Come, be a good 
maid, and say ye love me ! ” 

“ Why, Dick,” she cried, " would I be here? ” 

"Well, see ye here,” continued Dick, "an we but escape 
whole we’ll marry ; and an we’re to die, we die, and there’s 
an end on’t. But now that I think, how found ye my 
chamber ?” 

" I asked it of Dame Hatch,” she answered. 

"Well, the dame’s staunch,” he answered; "she’ll not 
tell upon you. We have time before us.” 

And just then, as if to contradict his words, feet came 
down the corridor, and a fist beat roughly on the door. 

" Here ! ” cried a voice. " Open, Master Dick ; open ! " 

Dick neither moved nor answered. 


122 


THE BLACK AKROW. 


“ It is all orer,” said the girl ; and she put her arms 
about Dick’s neck. 

One after another, men came trooping to the door. 
Then Sir Daniel arrived himself, and there was a sudden 
cessation of the noise. 

“Dick,” cried the knight, “be not an ass. The Seven 
Sleepers had been awake ere now. We know she is within 
there. Open, then, the door, man.” 

Dick was again silent. 

“ Down with it,” said Sir Daniel. And immediately his 
followers fell savagely upon the door with foot and fist. 
Solid as it was, and strongly bolted, it would soon have 
given way ; but once more fortune interfered. Over the 
thunderstorm of blows the cry of a sentinel was heard ; it 
was followed by another ; shouts ran along the battle- 
ments, shouts answered out of the wood. In the first mo- 
ment of alarm it sounded as if the foresters were carrying 
the Moat House by assault. And Sir Daniel and his men, 
desisting instantly from their attack upon Dick’s chamber, 
hurried to defend the walls. 

“Now,” cried Dick, “we are saved.” 

He seized the great old bedstead with both hands, and 
bent himself in vain to move it. 

“Help me. Jack. For your life’s sake, help me stoutly ! ” 
he cried. 

Between them, with a huge effort, they dragged the big 
frame of oak across the room, and thrust it endwise to tha 
chamber door. 


THE ROOM OVER THE CHAPEL. 


12S 


“ Ye do but make things worse,” said Joanna, sadly. 
“ He will then enter by the trap.” 

“Not so,” replied Dick. “ He durst not tell his secret 
to so many. It is by the trap that we shall flee. Hark! 
The attack is over. Nay, it was none ! ” 

It had, indeed, been no attack ; it was the arrival of an- 
other party of stragglers from the defeat of Kisingham 
that had disturbed Sir Daniel. They had run the gaunt- 
let under cover of the darkness ; they had been admitted 
by the great gate ; and now, with a great stamping of 
hoofs and jingle of accoutrements and arms, they were 
dismounting in the court. 

“ He will return anon,” said Dick. “ To the trap ! ” 

He lighted a lamp, and they went together into the 
corner of the room. The open chink through which some 
light still glittered was easily discovered, and, taking a 
stout sword from his small armoury, Dick thrust it deep 
into the seam, and weighed strenuously on the hilt. The 
trap moved, gaped a little, and at length came widely 
open. Seizing it with their hands, the two young folk 
threw it back. It disclosed a few steps descending, and 
at the foot of them, where the would-be murderer had left 
it, a burning lamp. , ,, ,, 

“Now,” said Dick, “ go first and take the lamp. .1 will 
follow to close the trap.” 

So they descended one after the other, and as Dick 
lowered the trap, the blows began once again to thunder 
on the panels of the door. 


124 


THE BLACK AJiROW. 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE PASSAGE. 

The passage in which Dick and Joanna now found 
themselves was narrow, dirty, and short. At the other 
end of it, a door stood partly open ; the same door, with- 
out doubt, that they had heard the man unlocking. 
Heavy cobwebs hung from the roof ; and the paved floor- 
ing echoed hollow under the lightest tread. 

Beyond the door there were two branches, at right an- 
gles. Dick chose one of them at random, and the pair 
hurried, with echoing footsteps, along the hollow of the 
chapel roof. The top of the arched ceiling rose like a 
whale’s back in the dim glimmer of the lamp. Here and 
there were spyholes, concealed, on the other side, by the 
carving of the cornice ; and looking down through one of 
these, Dick saw the paved floor of the chapel — the altar, 
with its burning tapers — and stretched before it on the 
steps, the figure of Sir Oliver praying with uplifted 
hands. 

At the other end, they descended a few steps. The 
passage grew narrower ; the wall upon one hand was now 
of wood ; the noise of people talking, and a faint flicker- 
ing of lights, came through the interstices ; and presently 
they came to a round hole about the size of a man’s eye, 
and Dick, looking down through it, beheld the interior of 


THE PASSAGE. 


125 


the hall, and some half a dozen men sitting, in their 
jacks, about the table, drinking dee^ and demolishing a 
venison pie. These were certainly some of the late arri-, 
vals. 

" Here is no help,” said Dick. “ Let us try back.” 

“ Nay,” said Joanna ; “ maybe the passage goeth far- 
ther.” 

And she pushed on. But a few yards farther the pas- 
sage ended at the top of a short flight of steps ; and it 
became plain that, as long as the soldiers occupied the 
hall, escape was impossible upon that side. 

They retraced their steps with all imaginable speed, 
and set forward to explore the other branch. It was ex- 
ceedingly narrow, scarce wide enough for a large man ; 
and it led them continually up and down by little break- 
neck stairs, until even Dick had lost all notion of his 
whereabouts. 

At length it grew both narrower and lower ; the stairs 
continued to descend ; the walls on either hand became 
damp and slimy to the touch ; and far in front of them 
they heard the squeaking and scuttling of the rats. 

“We must be in the dungeons,” Dick remarked. 

“ And still there is no outlet,” added Joanna. 

“ Nay, but an outlet there must be ! ” Dick answered. 

Presently, sure enough, they came to a sharp angle, and 
then the passage ended in a flight of steps. On the top 
of that there was a solid flag of stone by way of trap, and 
ito this they both set their backs. It was immovable. 


126 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


“Some one holdeth it,” suggested Joanna. 

Not so,” said Dick ; “ for were a man strong as ten, 
he must still yield a little. But this resisteth like dead 
rock. There is a weight upon the trap. Here is no is- 
sue ; and, by my sooth, good Jack, we are here as fairly 
prisoners as though the gyves were on our ankle bones. 
Sit ye then down, and let us talk. After a while we shall 
return, when perchance they shall be less carefully upon 
their guard ; and, who knoweth ? we may break out and 
stand a chance. But, in my poor opinion, we are as good 
as shent.” 

♦‘Dick !” she cried, “alas the day that ever ye should 
have seen me 1 For like a most unhappy and unthankful 
maid, it is I have led you hither.” 

♦‘ What cheer ! ” returned Dick. “ It was all written, 
and that which is written, willy nilly, cometh still to pass. 
But tell me a little what manner of a maid ye are, and 
how ye came into Sir Daniel’s hands ; that will do better 
than to bemoan yourself, whether for your sake or mine.” 

♦♦ I am an orphan, like yourself, of father and mother," 
said Joanna ; “ and for my great misfortune, Dick, and 
hitherto for yours, I am a rich marriage. My Lord Fox- 
ham had me to ward ; yet it appears Sir Daniel bought 
the marriage of me from the king, and a right dear price 
he paid for ii So here was I, poor babe, with two great 
and rich men fighting which should marry me, and I still 
at nurse ! Well, then the world changed, and there was a 
new chancellor, and Sir Daniel bought the warding of me 


THE passage; 


127 


orer the Lord Foxham’s head. And then the world 
changed again, and Lord Foxham bought my marriage 
over Sir Daniel’s ; and from then to now it went on ill 
betwixt the two of them. But still Lord Foxham kept 
me in his hands, and was a good lord to me. And at last 
I was to be married — or sold, if ye like it better. Five 
hundred pounds Lord Foxham was to get for me. Ham- 
ley was the groom’s name, and to-morrow, Dick, of all 
days in the year, was I to be betrothed. Had it not 
come to Sir Daniel, I had been wedded, sure — and never 
seen thee, Dick — dear Dick ! ” 

And here she took his hand, and kissed it, with the 
prettiest grace ; and Dick drew her hand to him and did 
the like. 

“ Well,” she went on, “ Sir Daniel took me unawares in 
the garden, and made me dress in these men’s clothes, 
which is a deadly sin for a woman ; and, besides, they fit 
me not He rode with me to Kettley, as ye saw, telling 
me I was to marry you ; but I, in my hearty made sure I 
would marry Hamley in his teeth.” 

“ Ay ! ” cried Dick, “ and so ye loved this Hamley ! ” 

“ Nay,” replied Joanna, “ not I. I did but hate Sir 
Daniel. And then, Dick, ye helped me, and ye were right 
kind, and very bold, and my heart turned towards you in 
mine own despite ; and now, if we can in any way com* 
pass it, I would marry you with right goodwill. And if, 
by cruel destiny, it may not be, still ye’ll be dear to mo 
Wh my heart beats, it’ll be true to you.” 


128 


THE BLACK AKROW. 


“And 1,’ said Dick, “ that never cared a straw for any 
manner of woman until now, I took to you when I thought 
ye were a hoy. I had a pity to you, and knew not why. 
When I would have belted you, the hand failed me. But 
when ye owned ye were a maid. Jack — for still I will call 
you Jack — I made sure ye were the maid for me. Hark ! ” 
he said, breaking off — “ one cometh.” 

And indeed a heavy tread was now audible in the echo- 
ing passage, and the rats again fled in armies. 

Dick reconnoitred his position. The sudden turn gave 
him a post of vantage. He could thus shoot in safety 
from the cover of the wall. But it was plain the light was 
too near him, and, running some way forward, he set 
down the lamp in the middle of the passage, and then re- 
turned to watch. 

Presently, at the far end of the passage, Bennet hove in 
sight. He seemed to be alone, and he carried in his hand 
a burning torch, which made him the better mark. 

“ Stand, Bennet ! ” cried Dick. “ Another step, and y» 
are dead.” 

“ So here ye are,” returned Hatch, peering forward 
into the darkness. “ I see you not. Aha ! y’ ’ave done 
wisely, Dick ; y’ ’ave put your lamp before you. By my 
sooth, but, though it was done to shoot my own knave 
body, I do rejoice to see ye profit of my lessons ! And 
now, what make ye ? what seek ye here ? Why would ye 
shoot upon an old, kind friend ? And have ye the young 
gentlewoman there ? ” 


THE PASSAGE. 


129 


** Nay, Bennet, it is I should question and you answer,” 
’eplied Dick. “ Why am I in this jeopardy of my life ? 
Why do men come privily to slay me in my bed? Why 
am I now fleeing in mine own guardian’s strong house, 
and from the friends that I have lived among and never 
injured ? ” 

“Master Dick, Master Dick,” said Bennet, “what told 
I you ? Y’ are brave, but the most uncrafty lad that I can 
think upon ! ” 

“Well,” returned Dick, “I see ye know all, and that 1 
am doomed indeed. It is well. Here, where I am, I stay. 
Let Sir Daniel get me out if he be able ! ” 

Hatch was silent for a space. 

“Hark ye,” he began, “Iretmm to Sir Daniel, to tell 
him where ye are, and how posted ; for, in truth, it was 
to that end he sent me. But you, if ye are no fool, had 
best be gone ere I return.” 

“Begone !” repeated Dick. “I would begone already, 
an’ I wist how. I cannot move the trap.” 

“ Put me your hand into the corner, and see what ye 
find there,” replied Bennet. “ Throgmorton’s rope is still 
in the brown chamber. Fare ye well.” 

And Hatch, turning upon his heel, disappeared again 
into the windings of the passage. 

Dick instantly returned for his lamp, and proceeded to 
act upon the hint. At one corner of the trap there was a 
deep cavity in the wall. Pushing his arm into the aper- 
ture, Dick found an iron bar, which he thrust vigorously 
9 


180 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


upwards. • There followed a snapping noise, and the slab 
of atone instantly started in its bed. 

They were free of the passage. A' little exercise of 
strength easily raised the trap ; and they came forth into 
a vaulted chamber, opening on one hand upon the court, 
where one or two fellows, with bare aims, were rubbing 
down the horses of the last arrivals. " A torch or two, each 
stuck in an iron ring against the wall, changefuUy lit up 
the scene. ' ' 


CHAPTER V. 

HOW DICK CHANGED SIDES. 

Dick, blowing out his lamp lest it should attract atten- 
tion, led the way up-stairs and along the corridor. In the 
brown chamber the rope had been made fast to the frame 
of an exceeding heavy and ancient bed. It had not 
been detached, and Dick, taking the coil to the window, 
began to lower it slowly and cautiously into the darkness 
of the nighi Joan stood by ; but as the rope lengthened, 
and still Dick continued to pay it out, extreme fear began 
to conquer her resolution. 

“ Dick,” she said, “ is it so deep ? I may not essay it 
I should infallibly fall, good Dick” 

It was just at the delicate moment of the operations 
that she spoke. Dick started ; the remainder of the coil 


HOW DICK CHANGED SIDES. 


131 


slipped from his grasp, and the end fell with a splash into 
the moat. Instantly, from the battlement above, the voice 
of a sentinel cried, “ Who goes ? ” 

“ A murrain ! ” cried Dick. “ We are paid now ! Down 
with you — take the rope.” 

“I cannot,” she cried, recoiling. 

“ An ye cannot, no more can I,” said Shelton. “ How 
can 1 swim the moat without you? Do ye desert me, 
then?” 

“ Dick,” she gasped, “ I cannot. The strength is gone 
from me.” 

“ By the mass, then, we are all shent ! ” he shouted, 
stamping with his foot ; and then, hearing steps, he ran 
to the room door and sought to close it. 

Before he could shoot the bolt, strong arms were thrust- 
ing it back upon him from the other side. He struggled 
for a second ; then, feeling himself overpowered, ran back 
to the window. The girl had fallen against the wall in 
the embrasure of the window ; she was more than half in- 
sensible ; and when he tried to raise her in his arms, her 
body was limp and unresponsive. 

At the same moment the men who had forced the door 
against him laid hold upon him. The first he poniarded 
at a blow, and the others falling back for a second in some 
disorder, he profited by the chance, bestrode the window- 
sill, seized the cord in both hands, and let his body slip. 

The cord was knotted, which made it the easier to de- 
scend ; but so furious was Dick’s hurry, and so small 


132 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


his experience of such gymnastics, that he span round and 
round in mid-air like a criminal upon a gibbet, and now 
beat his head, and now bruised his hands, against the 
rugged stonework of the wall. The air roared in his ears ; 
he saw the stars overhead, and the reflected stars below 
him in the moat, whirling like dead leaves before the tem- 
pest. And then he lost hold, and fell, and soused head 
over ears into the icy water. 

When he came to the surface his hand encountered the 
I'ope, which, newly lightened of his weight, was swinging 
wildly to and fro. There was a red glow overhead, and 
looking up, he saw, by the light of several torches and a 
cresset full of burning coals, the battlements lined with 
faces. He saw the men’s eyes turning hither and thither 
in quest of him ; but he was too far below, the light 
reached him not, and they looked in vain. 

And now he perceived that the rope was considerably 
too long, and he began to struggle as well as he could 
towards the other side of the moat, still keeping his head 
above water. In this way he got much more than half- 
way over ; indeed the bank was almost within reach, be- 
fore the rope began to draw him back by its own weight. 
Taking his courage in both hands, he left go and made a 
leap for the trailing sprays of willow that had already, 
that same evening, helped Sir Daniel’s messenger to land. 
He went down, rose again, sank a second time, and then 
his hand caught a branch, and with the speed of thought 
be bad dragged himself into the thick of the tree and 


HOW DICK CHANGED SIDES. 


133 


clung there, dripping and panting, and still half uncertain 
of his escape. 

But all this had not been done without a considerable 
splashing, which had so far indicated his position to the 
men along the battlements. Arrows and quarrels fell 
thick around him in the darkness, thick like driving hail ; 
and suddenly a torch was thrown down — flared through 
the air in its swift passage — stuck for a moment on the 
edge of the bank, where it burned high and lit up its 
whole sun-oundings like a bonfire — and then, in a good 
hour for Dick, slipped off, plumped into the moat, and 
was instantly extinguished. 

It had served its purpose. The marksmen had had 
time to see the willow, and Dick ensconced among its 
boughs ; and though the lad instantly sprang higher up 
the bank, and ran for his life, he was yet not quick enough 
to escape a shot. An arrow struck him in the shoulder, 
another grazed his head. 

The pain of his wounds lent him wings ; and he had no 
sooner got upon the level than he took to his heels and 
ran straight before him in the dark, without a thought 
for the direction of his flight. 

For a few steps missiles followed him, but these soon 
ceased ; and when at length he came to a halt and looked 
behind, he was already a good way from the Moat House, 
though he could still see the torches moving to and fro 
along its battlements. 

He leaned against a tree, streaming with blood and w» 


134 : 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


ter, bruised, wounded, alone, and unarmed. For all that^ 
he had saved his life for that bout ; and though Joanna 
remained behind in the power of Sir Daniel, he neither 
blamed himself for an accident that it had been beyond 
his power to prevent, nor did he augur any fatal conse- 
quences to the girl herself. Sir Daniel was cruel, but he 
was not likely to be cruel to a young gentlewoman who 
had other protectors, willing and able to bring him to ac- 
count. It was more j^robable he would make haste to 
marry her to some friend of his own. 

“Well,” thought Dick, “between then and now I will 
find me the means to bring that traitor under ; for I think, 
by the mass, that I be now absolved from any gratitude 
or obligation ; and when war is open, there is a fair chance 
for aU.” 

In the meanwhile, here he was in a sore plight 

For some little way farther he struggled forward through 
the forest ; but what with the pain of his wounds, the 
darkness of the night, and the extreme uneasiness and 
confusion of his mind, he soon became equally unable to 
guide himself or to continue to push through the close 
undergrowth, and he was fain at length to sit down and 
lean his back against a tree. 

When he awoke from something betwixt sleep and 
swooning, the grey of the morning had begun to take the 
place of night. A little chilly breeze was bustling among 
the trees, and as he still sat staring before him, only half 
awake, he became aware of something dark that swung to 


HOW DICK CHANGED SIDES. 


135 


and fro among the branches, some hundred yards in front 
of him. The progressive brightening of the day and the re- 
turn of his own senses at last enabled him to recognize the 
object. It was a man hanging from the bough of a tall oak. 
His head had fallen forward on his breast ; but at every 
stronger puff of wind his body span round and round, and 
his legs and arms tossed, like some ridiculous plaything. 

Dick clambered to his feet, and, staggering and leaning 
on the tree-trunks as he went, drew near to this grim ob- 
ject. 

The bough was perhaps twenty feet above the ground, 
and the poor fellow had been drawn up so high by his ex- 
ecutioners that his boots swung clear above Dick’s reach ; 
and as his hood had been drawn over his face, it was im- 
possible to recognize the man. 

Dick looked about him right and left ; and at last he 
perceived that the other end of the cord had been made 
fast to the trunk of a little hawthorn which grew, thick 
with blossom, under the lofty arcade of the oak. With his 
dagger, which alone remained to him of all his arms, 
young Shelton severed the rope, and instantly, with a dead 
thump, the corpse fell in a heap upon the ground. 

Dick raised the hood ; it was Throgmorton, Sir Daniel's: 
messenger. He had not gone far upon his errand. A 
paper, which had apparently escaped the notice of the 
men of the Black Arrow, stuck from the bosom of his 
doublet, and Dick, pulling it forth, found it was Sir Dam 
^’s letter to Lord Wensleydale. 


136 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


“ Come,” thought he, “ if the world changes yet again, 

I may have here the wherewithal to shame Sir Daniel — 
nay, and perchance to bring him to the block.” 

And he put the paper in his own bosom, said a prayer 
over the dead man, and set forth again through the woods. 

His fatigue and weakness increased ; his ears sang, hia 
steps faltered, his mind at intervals failed him, so low had 
he been brought by loss of blood. Doubtless he made 
many deviations from his true path, but at last he came 
out upon the high-road, not very far from Tunstall hamlet 

A rough voice bid him stand. 

“ Stand ? ” repeated Dick. “ By the mass, but I am near- 
er falling.” 

And he suited the action to the word, and fell all his 
length upon the road. 

Two men came forth out of the thicket, each in green 
forest jerkin, each with long-bow and quiver and short 
sword. 

“ Why, Lawless,” said the younger of the two, “ it is 
young Shelton.” 

“ Ay, this will be as good as bread to John Amend-All,” 
returned the other. “ Though, faith, he hath been to the 
wars. Here is a tear in his scalp that must ’a’ cost him 
many a good ounce of blood.” 

“And here,” added Greensheve, “is a hole in his 
shoulder that must have pricked him well. Who hath 
done this, think ye ? If it be one of ours, he may all to 
prayer ; Ellis will give him a short shrift and a long rope.” 


HOW DICK CHANGED SIDES. 


137 


“ Up with the cub,” said Lawless. “ Clap him on my 
back.” 

And then, when Dick had been hoisted to his shoulders, 
and he had taken the lad’s arms about his neck, and got a 
firm hold of him, the ex-Grey Friar added : 

“ Keep ye the post, brother Greensheve. I will on with 
him by myself.” 

So Greensheve returned to his ambush on the wayside, 
and Lawless trudged down the hill, whistling as he went, 
with Dick, still in a dead faint, comfortably settled on his 
shoulders. 

The sun rose as be came out of the skirts of the wood 
and saw Tuustall hamlet straggling up the opposite hill. 
All seemed quiet, but a strong post of some half a score 
of archers lay close by the bridge on either side of the 
road, and, as soon as they perceived Lawless with his bur- 
then, began to bestir themselves and set arrow to string 
like vigilant sentries. 

“ Who goes? ” cried the man in command. 

“ Will Lawless, by the rood — ye know me as well 
as your own hand,” returned the outlaw, contemptu- 
ously. 

“ Give the word. Lawless,” returned the other. 

“ Now, Heaven lighten thee, thou great fool,” replied 
Lawless. “Did I not tell it thee myself ? But ye are all 
mad for this playing at soldiers. When I am in the green- 
wood, give me greenwood ways ; and my wox’d for this 
tide is ; ‘ A fig for all mock soldiery ! ’ ” 


138 


THT5 BLACK AKKOW. 


“ Lawless, ye but show an ill example ; give us the 
word, fool jester,” said the commander of the post. 

“ And if I had forgotten it ? ” asked the other. 

“ An ye had forgotten it — as I know y’ ’ave not — by the 
mass, I would clap an arrow into your big body,” returned 
the first. 

“ Nay, an y’ are so ill a jester,” said Lawless, “ ye shall 
have your word for me. ‘ Duckworth and Shelton ’ is the 
word ; and here, to the illustration, is Shelton on my shoul- 
ders, and to Duckworth do I carry him.” 

“Pass, Lawless,” said the senti-y. 

“ And where is John ? ” asked the Grey Friar. 

“ He holdeth a court, by the mass, and taketh rents as 
to the manner born ! ” cried another of the company. 

So it proved. When Lawless got as far up the village 
as the little inn, he found Ellis Duckworth surrounded by 
Sir Daniel’s tenants, and, bj' the right of his good com- 
pany of archers, coolly taking rents, and giving written re- 
ceipts in return for them. By the faces of the tenants, it 
was plain how little this proceeding pleased them ; for 
they argued very rightly that they would simply have to 
pay them twice. 

As soon as he knew what had brought Lawless, Ellis 
dismissed the remainder of the tenants, and, with every 
mark of interest and apprehension, conducted Dick into 
an inner chamber of the inn. There the lad’s hurts were 
looked to ; and he was recalled, by simple remedies, to 
consciousness. 


HOW DICK CHANGED SIDES. 139 

“Dear lad,” said Ellis, pressing his hand, “y’ are in a 
friend’s hands that loved your father, and loves you for his 
sake. Rest ye a little quietly, for ye are somewhat out of 
case. Then shall ye tell me your story, and betwixt the 
two of us we shall find a remedy for all.” 

A little later in the day, and after Dick had awakened 
from a comfortable slumber to find himself still very weak, 
but clearer in mind and easier in body, Ellis returned, and 
sitting down by the bedside, begged him, in the name of 
his father, to relate the circumstance of his escape from 
Tunstall Moat House. There was something in the 
strength of Duckworth’s frame, in the honesty of his 
brown face, in the clearness and shrewdness of his eyes, 
that moved Dick to obey him ; and from first to last the 
lad told him the story of his two days’ adventures. 

“ Well,” said Ellis, when he had done, “ see what the 
kind saints have done for you, Dick Shelton, not alone to 
save your body in so numerous and deadly perils, but to 
bring you into my hands that have no dearer wish than to 
assist your father’s son. Be but true to me — and I see y’ 
are true — and betwixt you and me, we shall bring that 
false-heart traitor to the death.” 

“ Will ye assault the house ! ” asked Dick. 

“I were mad, indeed, to think of it,” returned Ellia 
“ He hath too much power ; his men gather to him ; those 
that gave me the slip last night, and by the mass came in 
so handily for you — those have made him safe. Nay, 
Dick, to the contrary, thou and I and my brave bowmen, 


140 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


we must all slip from tliis forest speedily, and leave Sir 
Daniel free.” 

“My mind misgiveth me for Jack,” said the lad. 

“ For Jack J ” repeated Duckworth. “ O, I see, for the 
wench ! Nay, Dick, I promise you, if there come talk of 
any marriage we shall act at once ; till then, or till the 
time is ripe, we shall all disappear, even like shadows at 
morning ; Sir Daniel shall look east and west, and see 
none enemies ; he shall think, by the mass, that he hath 
dreamed awhile, and hath now awakened in his bed. But 
our four eyes, Dick, shall follow him right close, and our 
four hands — so help us all the army of the saints i — shall 
bring that traitor low ! ” 

Two days later Sir Daniel’s garrison had grown to such 
a strength that he ventured on a sally, and at the head of 
some two score horsemen, pushed without opposition as 
far as Tunstall hamlet. Not an arrow flew, not a man 
stirred in the thicket ; the bridge was no longer guard- 
ed, but stood open to all comei-s ; and as Sir Daniel cross- 
ed it, he saw the villagers looking timidly from their 
doors. 

Presently one of them, taking heart of grace, came for- 
ward, and with the lowliest salutations, presented a letter 
to the knight. 

His face darkened as he read the contents. It ran 

thua; 


HOW DICK CHANGED SIDES. 


141 


To the most untrue and cruel gentylman, Sir Daniel Bracks 
ley^ Knyght, These : 

I fynde ye were untrue and unkynd fro the first. Ye 
have my father’s blood upon your hands ; let be, it will 
not wasshe. Some day ye shall perish by my procure- 
ment, so much I let you to wytte ; and I let you to wytte 
farther, that if ye seek to wed to any other the gentyl- 
woman, Mistresse Joan Sedley, whom that I am bound 
upon a great oath to wed myself, the blow will be very 
swift. The first step therinne will be thy first step to 
the grave. Ric. Shelton. 


BOOK III.— MY LORD FOXHAM. 

CHAPTER L 

THE HOUSE BY THE SHORE. 

Months had passed away since Richard Shelton made 
his escape from the hands of his guardian. These months 
had been eventful for England. The party of Lancaster, 
which was then in the very article of death, had once 
more raised its head. The Yorkists defeated and dis- 
persed, their leader butchered on the field, it seemed, for 
a very brief season in the winter following upon the events 
already recorded, as if the House of Lancaster had finally 
triumphed over its foes. 

The small town of Shoreby-on-the-Till was full of the 
Lancastrian nobles of the neighbourhood. Earl Rising- 
ham was there, with three hundred men-at-arms ; Lord 
Shoreby, with two hundred ; Sir Daniel himself, high in 
favour and once more growing rich on confiscations 
lay in a house of his own, on the main street, with three- 
score men. The world had changed indeed. 

It was a black, bitter cold evening in the first week of 
January, with a hard frost, a high wind, and every likeli- 
hood of snow before the morning. 


THE HOUSE BY THE SHORE. 


143 


In an obscure alehouse in a by-street near the harbour, 
three or four men sat drinking ale and eating a hasty mesa 
of eggs. They were all likely, lusty, weather-beaten fel- 
lows, hard of hand, bold of eye ; and though they wore 
plain tabards, like country ploughmen, even a drunken 
soldier might have looked twice before he sought a quarrel 
in such company. 

A little apart before the huge fire sat a younger man, al- 
most a boy, dressed in much the same fashion, though it 
was easy to see by his looks that he was better bom, and 
might have worn a sword, had the time suited. 

“ Nay,” said one of the men at the table, “I like it not. 
Ill will come of it. This is no place for jolly fellows. A 
jolly fellow loveth open country, good cover, and scarce 
foes ; but here we are shut in a town, girt about with en- 
emies ; and, for the bull’s-eye of misfortune, see if it snow 
not ere the morning.” 

“ 'Tis for Master Shelton there,” said another, nodding 
his head towards the lad before the fire. 

“I will do much for Master Shelton,” returned the 
first ; “ but to come to the gallows for any man — nay, 
brothers, not that ! ” 

The door of the inn opened, and another man entered 
hastily and approached the youtii before the fire. 

“Master Shelton,” he said, “Sir Daniel goeth forth 
with a pair of links and four archers.” 

Dick (for this was our young friend) rose instantly to 
his feet 


X44 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


‘‘Lawless,” he said, “ye will take John Capper’s watch. 
Greensheve, follew with me. Capper, lead forward. We 
will follow him this time, an he go to York.” 

The next moment they were outside in the dark street, 
and Capper, the man who had just come, pointed to 
where two torches flared in the wind at a little dis- 
tance. 

The town was already sound asleep ; no one moved up- 
on the streets, and there was nothing easier than to follow 
the party without observation. The two link-bearers went 
first ; next followed a single man, whose long cloak blew 
about him in the wind ; and the rear was brought up by 
the four archers, each with his bow upon his arm. They 
moved at a brisk walk, threading the intricate lanes and 
drawing nearer to the shore. 

“ He hath gone each night in this direction ? ” asked 
Dick, in a whisper. 

“ This is the third night running. Master Shelton,” re- 
turned Capper, “ and still at the same hour and with the 
same small following, as though his end were secret.” 

Sir Daniel and his six men were now come to the out- 
skirts of the country. Shoreby was an open town, and 
though the Lancastrian lords who lay there kept a strong 
guard on the main roads, it was still possible to enter or 
depart unseen by any of the lesser streets or across the 
open country. 

The lane which Sir Daniel had been following came to 
an abrupt end. Before him there was a stretch o^ rough 


THE HOUSE BY THE SHORE. 


145 


down, and the noise of the sea-surf was audible upon one 
hand. There were no guards in the neighbourhood, nor 
any light in that quarter of the town. 

Dick and his two outlaws drew a little closer to the 
object of their chase, and presently, as they came forth 
from between the houses and could see a little farther 
upon either hand, they were aware of another torch draw- 
ing near from another direction. 

“ Hey,” said Dick, “ I smell treason.” 

Meanwhile, Sir Daniel had come to a full halt. The 
torches were stuck into the sand, and the men lay down, 
as if to await the aiTival of the other party. 

This drew near at a good rate. It consisted of four 
men only — a pair of archers, a varlet with a link, and a 
cloaked gentleman walking in their midst. 

“ Is it you, my lord ? ” cried Sir Daniel. 

“ It is I, indeed ; and if ever true knight gave proof 
I am that man,” replied the leader of the second troop ; 
“ for who would not rather face giants, sorcerers, or pa- 
gans, than this pinching cold ? ” 

“My lord,” returned Sir Daniel, “beauty will be the 
more beholden, misdoubt it not. But shall we forth ? for 
the sooner ye have seen my merchandise, the sooner shall 
we both get home.” 

“ But why keep ye her here, good knight ? " inquired 
the other. “ An she be so young, and so fair, and so 
wealthy, why do ye not bring her forth among her mates? 
Ye would soon make her a good marriage, and no need to 

10 % 


i46 


•THE BLACK ARROW. 


freeze your fingers and risk arrow-shots by going abroad 
at such untimely seasons in the dark.” 

“I have told you, my lord,” replied Sir Daniel, “the 
reason thereof concerneth me only. Neither do I pur- 
pose to explain it farther. Suffice it, that if ye be weary 
of your old gossip, Daniel Brackley, publish it abroad 
that y’ are to wed Joanna Sedley, and I give you my word 
ye will be quit of him right soon. Ye will find him with 
an arrow in his back.” 

Meantime the two gentlemen were walking briskly for- 
wai'd over the down ; the three torches going before them, 
stooping against the wind and scattering clouds of smoke 
and tufts of flame, and the rear brought up by the six 
archers. 

Close upon the heels of these, Dick followed He 
’had, of course, heard no word of this conversation ; 
but he had recognized in the second of the speakers 
old Lord Shoreby himself, a man of an infamous reputa- 
tion, whom even Sir Daniel affected, in public, to con- 
demn. 

Presently they came close down upon the beach. The 
air smelt salt ; the noise of the surf increased ; and here, 
in a large walled garden, there stood a small house of two 
storeys, with stables and other offices. 

The foremost torch-bearer unlocked a door in the wall, 
and after the whole party had passed into the garden, 
again closed and locked it on the other side. 

Dick and his men were thus excluded from any farthes 


THE HOUSE BY THE SHORE. 


147 


following, unless they should scale the wall and thus put 
their necks in a trap. 

They sat down in a tuft of furze and waited. The red 
glow of the torches moved up and down and to and fro 
within the enclosure, as if the link bearers steadily pa- 
trolled the garden. 

Twenty minutes passed, and then the whole party issued 
foi*th again upon the down ; and Sir Daniel and the 
baron, after an elaborate salutation, separated and turned 
severally homeward, each with his own following of men 
and lights. 

As soon as the sound of their steps had been swallowed 
by the wind, Dick got to his feet as briskly as he was 
able, for he was stiff and aching with the cold. 

“ Capper, ye will give me a back up,” he said. 

They advanced, all three, to the wall ; Capper stooped, 
and Dick, getting upon his shoulders, clambered on to 
the cope-stone. 

“Now, Greensheve,” whispered Dick, “follow me up 
here ; lie flat upon your face, that ye may be the less 
seen ; and be ever ready to give me a hand if I fall foully 
on the other side.” 

And so saying, he dropped into the garden. 

It was all pitch dark ; there was no light in the house. 
The wind whistled shrill among the poor shrubs, and the 
surf beat upon the beach ; there was no other sound. 
Cautiously Dick footed it forth, stumbling among bushes, 
and groping with his hands; and presently the crisp 


148 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


noise of gravel underfoot told him that he had struck 
upon an alley. 

Here he paused, and taking his crossbow from where 
he kept it concealed under his long tabard, he prepared it 
for instant action, and went forward once more with 
greater resolution and assurance. The path led him 
straight to the group of buildings. 

All seemed to be sorely dilapidated : the windows of 
the house were secured by crazy shutters ; the stables 
were open and empty •, there was no hay in the hay-loft, 
no corn in the corn-box. Any one would have supposed 
the place to be deserted. But Dick had good reason to 
think otherwise. He continued his inspection, visiting 
the oflBices, trying all the windows. At length he came 
round to the sea-side of the house, and there, sure 
enough, there burned a pale light in one of the upper 
windows. 

He stepped back a little way, till he thought he could 
see the movement of a shadow on the wall of the apart- 
ment. Then he remembered that, in the stable, his grop- 
ing hand had rested for a moment on a ladder, and he re- 
turned with all despatch to bring it. The ladder was 
very short, but yet, by standing on the topmost round, he 
could bring his hands as high as the iron bars of the win- 
dow ; and seizing these, he raised his body by main force 
until his eyes commanded the interior of the room. 

Two persons were within ; the first he readily knew to 
be Dame Hatch ; the second, a tall and beautiful and 


THE HOUSE BY THE SHORE. 


149 


grave young lady, in a long, embroidered dress— could 
that be Joanna Sedley ? his old wood-companion. Jack, 
whom he had thought to punish with a belt ? 

He dropped back again to the top round of the ladder in 
a kind of amazement. He had never thought of his sweet- 
heart as of so superior a being, and he was instantly taken 
with a feeling of diffidence. But he had little opportunity 
for thought. A low “ Hist ! ” sounded from close by, and 
he hastened to descend the ladder. 

“ Who goes ? ” he whispered. 

“ Greensheve,” came the reply, in tones similarly 
guarded. 

“ What want ye ? ” asked Dick. 

“ The house is watched. Master Shelton,” returned the 
outlaw. “We are not alone to watch it ; for even as I lay 
on my belly on the wall I saw men prowling in the dark, 
and heard them whistle softly one to the other.” 

“ By my sooth,” said Dick, “ but this is passing strange ! 
Were they not men of Sir Daniel’s ? ” 

“ Nay, sir, that they were not,” returned Greensheve ; 
“ for if I have eyes in my head, every man-Jack of them 
weareth me a white badge in his bonnet, something 
chequered with dark.” 

“ White, chequered with dark, ” repeated Dick. “ Faith, 
’tis a badge I know not. It is none of this country’s 
badges. Well, an that be so, let us slip as quietly forth 
from this garden as we may ; for here we are in an evil 
posture for defence. Beyond all question there are men 


150 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


of Sir Daniel’s in that house, and to he taken between two 
shots is a beggerman’s position. Take me this ladder ; I 
must leave it where I found it.” 

They returned the ladder to the stable, and groped their 
way to the place where they had entered. 

Capper had taken Greensheve’s position on the cope, 
and now he leaned down his hand, and, first one and then 
the other, pulled them up. 

Cautiously and silently, they dropped again upon the 
other side ; nor did they dare to speak until they had re- 
turned to their old ambush in the gorse. 

“Now, John Capper,” said Dick, “back with you to 
Shoreby, even as for your life. Bring me instantly what 
men ye can collect. Here shall be the rendezvous ; or if 
the men be scattered and the day be near at hand before 
they muster, let the place be something farther back, and 
by the entering in of the town. Greensheve and I lie here 
to watch. Speed ye, John Capper, and the saints aid 
you to despatch. And now, Greensheve,” he continued, 
as soon as Capper had departed, “ let thou and I go round 
about the garden in a wide circuit. I would fain see 
whether thine eyes betrayed thee,” 

Keeping well outwards from the wall, and profiting by 
every height and hollow, they passed about two sides, be- 
holding nothing. On the third side the garden wall was 
built close upon the beach, and to preserve the distance 
necessary to their purpose, they had to go some way down 
upon the sands. Although the tide was still pretty far out, 


A SKIRMISH IN THE DARK. 


151 


the surf was so high, and the sands so flat, that at each 
breaker a great sheet of froth and water came careering 
over the expanse, and Dick and Greensheve made this 
part of their inspection wading, now to the ankles, and 
now as deep as to the knees, in the salt and icy waters of 
the German Ocean. 

Suddenly, against the comparative whiteness of the gar- 
den wall, the figure of a man was seen, like a faint Chi- 
nese shadow, violently signalling with both arms. As he 
dropped again to the earth, another arose a little farther on 
and repeated the same performance. And so, like a silent 
watchword, these gesticulations made the round of the be- 
leaguered garden. 

“ They keep good watch,” Dick whispered. 

“Let us back to land, good master,” answered Green- 
sheve. “We stand here too open ; for, look ye, when the 
seas break heavy and white out there behind us, they shall 
see us plainly against the foam.” 

“ Ye speak sooth,” returned Dick. “ Ashore with us, 
right speedily.” 


CHAPTER n. 

A SKIRMISH IN THE DARK. 

Thoroughly drenched and chilled, the two adventureiB 
returned to their position in the gorse. 

“ I pray Heaven that Capper make good speed ! ” said 


152 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


Dick. “I VOW a candle to St. Mary of Slioreby if he coma 
before the hour ! ” 

“ Y’ are in a hurry, Master Dick ? ” asked Green- 
sheve. 

“Ay, good fellow,” answered Dick ; “ for in that house 
lieth my lady, whom I love, and who should these be that 
lie about her secretly by night ? Unfriends, for sure ! ” 

“ Well,” returned Greensheve, “ an John come speedily, 
we shall give a good account of them. They are not two 
score at the outside — I judge so by the spacing of their 
sentries — and, taken where they are, lying so widely, one 
score would scatter them like sparrows. And yet. Master 
Dick, an she be in Sir Daniel’s power already, it will little 
hurt that she should change into another’s. Who should 
these be ? ” 

“I do suspect the Lord of Shoreby,” Dick replied. 
“ When came they ? ” 

“ They began to come. Master Dick,” said Greensheve, 
“ about the time ye crossed the wall. I had not lain there 
the space of a minute ere I marked the first of the knaves 
crawling round the corner.” 

The last light had been already extinguished in the little 
house when they were wading in the wash of the breakers, 
and it was impossible to predict at what moment the lurk- 
ing men about the garden wall might make their onslaught. 
Of two evils, Dick preferred the least. He preferred that 
‘ Joanna should remain under the guardianship of Sir Daniel 
rather than pass into the clutches of Lord Shoreby ; and 


A SKIKMISH IN THE DAEK. 


153 


his mind was made up, if the house should be assaulted, 
to come at once to the relief of the besieged. 

But the time passed, and still there was no movement 
From quarter of an hour to quarter of an hour the same 
signal passed about the garden wall, as if the leader de- 
sired to assure himself of the vigilance of his scattered 
followers ; but in every other particular the neighbour- 
hood of the little house lay undisturbed. 

Presently Dick’s reinforcements began to arrive. The 
night was not yet old before nearly a score of men crouched 
beside him in the gorse. 

Separating these into two bodies, he took the com- 
mand of the smaller himself, and entrusted the larger to 
the leadership of Greensheve. 

“Now, Kit,” said he to this last, “take me your men to 
the near angle of the garden wall upon the beach. Post 
them strongly, and wait till that ye hear me falling on upon 
the other side. It is those upon the sea front that I would 
fain make certain of, for there will be the leader. The rest 
will run ; even let them. And now, lads, let no man draw 
an arrow ; ye wiU but hurt friends. Take to the steel, and 
keep to the steel ; and if we have the uppermost, I prom- 
ise every man of you a gold noble when I come to mine 
estate.” 

Out of the odd collection of broken men, thieves, mur- 
derers, and ruined peasantry, whom Duckworth had gath- 
ered together to serve the purposes of his revenge, some 
of the boldest and the most experienced in war had volup- 


154 


THE BLACK AEROW. 


teered to follow Richard Shelton. The service of watch- 
ing Sir Daniel’s movements in the town of Shoreby had 
from the first been irksome to their temper, and they had 
of late begim to grumble loudly and threaten to disperse. 
The prospect of a sharp encounter and possible spoils re- 
stored them to good humour, and they joyfully prepared 
for battle. 

Their long tabards thrown aside, they appeared, some 
in plain green jerkins, and some in stout leathern jacks ; 
under their hoods many wore bonnets strengthened by 
iron plates ; and, for offensive armour, swords, daggers, a 
few stout boar-spears, and a dozen of bright bills, put 
them in a posture to engage even regular feudal troops. 
The bows, quivers, and tabards were concealed among the 
gorse, and the two bands set resolutely forward. 

Dick, when he had reached the other side of the house, 
posted his six men in a line, about twenty yards from the 
garden wall, and took position himself a few paces in 
front. Then they all shouted with one voice, and closed 
upon the enemy. 

These, lying widely scattered, stiff with cold, and taken 
at unawares, sprang stupidly to their feet, and stood un- 
decided. Before they had time to get their courage about 
them, or even to form an idea of the number and mettle 
of their assailants, a similar shout of onslaught sounded 
in their ears from the far side of the enclosure. There- 
upon they gave themselves up for lost and ran. 

In this way the two small troops of the men of the 


A SKIRMISH IN THE DARK. 


165 


Black Arrow closed upon the sea front of the garden wall, 
and took a part of the strangers, as it were, between two 
fires ; while the whole of the remainder ran for their lives 
in different directions, and were soon scattered in the 
darkness. 

For all that, the fight was but beginning. Dick’s out- 
laws, although they had the advantage of the surprise, 
were still considerably outnumbered by the men they had 
surrounded. The tide had flowed, in the meanwhile ; the 
beach was narrowed to a strip ; and on this wet field, be- 
tween the surf and the garden wall, there began, in the 
darkness, a doubtful, furious, and deadly contest. 

The strangers were well armed ; they fell in silence 
upon their assailants ; and the affray became a series of 
single combats. Dick, who had come first into the mellay, 
was engaged by three ; the first he cut down at the first 
blow, but the other two coming upon him, hotly, he was 
fain to give ground before their onset. One of these two 
was a huge fellow, almost a giant for stature, and armed 
with a two-handed sword, which he brandished like a 
switch. Against this opponent, with his reach of arm and 
the length and weight of his weapon, Dick and his bill 
were quite defenceless ; and had the other continued to 
join vigorously in the attack, the lad must have indubita- 
bly fallen. This second man, however, less in stature and 
slower in his movements, paused for a moment to peer 
about him in the darkness, and to give ear to the sounds 
of the battle. 


£56 


TIIE BLACK ARROW. 


The giant still pursued his advantage, and still Dick fled 
before him, spying for his chance. Then the huge blade 
flashed and descended, and the lad, leaping on one side 
and running in, slashed sideways and upwards with his 
bill. A roar of agony responded, and, before the wound- 
ed man could raise his formidable weapon, Dick, twice 
repeating his blow, had brought him to the ground. 

The next moment he was engaged, upon more equal 
terms, with his second pursuer. Here there was no great 
difference in size, and though the man, fighting with 
sword and dagger against a bill, and being waiy and quick 
of fence, had a certain superiority of arms, Dick more 
than made it up by his greater agility on foot. Neither 
at first gained any obvious advantage ; but the older man 
was still insensibly profiting by the ardour of the younger 
to lead him where he would ; and presently Dick found 
that they had crossed the whole width of the beach, and 
were now fighting above the knees in the spume and bub- 
ble of the breakers. Here his own superior activity was 
rendered useless ; he found himself more or less at the 
discretion of his foe ; yet a little, and he had his back 
turned upon his own men, and saw that this adroit and 
skilful adversary was bent upon drawing him farther and 
farther away. 

Dick ground his teeth. He determined to decide the 
combat instantly ; and when the wash of the next wave 
had ebbed and left them dry, he rushed in, caught a blow 
upon his bill, and leaped right at the throat of his oppo- 


A SKIRMISH m THE DARK. 


157 


nent. The man went down backwards, with Dick still 
upon the top of him ; and the next wave, speedily succeed- 
ing to the last, buried him below a rush of water. 

While he was still submerged, Dick forced his dagger 
from his grasp, and rose to his feet, victorious. 

“Yield ye ! ” he said. “I give you life.” 

“ I yield me,” said the other, getting to his knees. “Ye 
fight, like a young man, ignorantly and foolhardily ; but, 
by the array of the saints, ye fight bravely ! ” 

Dick turned to the beach. The combat was still rag- ^ 
ing doubtfully in the night ; over the hoarse roar of the 
breakers steel clanged upon steel, and cries of pain and 
the shout of battle resounded. 

“Lead me to your captain, youth,” said the conquered 
knight. “It is fit this butchery should cease.” 

“Sir,” replied Dick, “so far as these brave fellows have 
a captain, the poor gentleman who here addresses you is 
he.” 

“ Call off your dogs, then, and I will bid my villains 
hold,” returned the other. 

There was something noble both in the voice and man- 
ner of his late opponent, and Dick instantly dismissed all 
fears of treachery. 

“ Lay down your arms, men ! ” cried the stranger knight. 

I have yielded me, upon promise of life.” 

The tone of the stranger was one of absolute command, 
and almost instantly the din and confusion of the mellaaf 
ceased. 


158 


THE BLACK AKRO’VT. 


” Lawless,” cried Dick, “ are ye safe ? ” 

“Ay,” cried Lawless, “safe and hearty.” 

“Light me the lantern,” said Dick. 

“ Is not Sir Daniel here ? ” inquired the knight. 

“Sir Daniel?” echoed Dick. “Now, by the rood, 1 
pray not. It would go ill with me if he were.” 

“Ill with you, fair sir?” inquired the other. “Nay, 
then, if ye be not of Sir Daniel’s party, I profess I com- 
prehend no longer. Wherefore, then, fell ye upon mine 
ambush ? in what quarrel, my young and very fiery friend ? 
to what earthly purpose ? and, to make a clear end of 
questioning, to what good gentleman have I surren- 
dered ? ” 

But before Dick could answer, a voice spoke in the dark- 
ness from close by. Dick could see the speaker’s blaok and 
white badge, and the respectful salute which he addressed 
to his superior. 

“ My lord,” said he, “if these gentlemen be unfriends 
to Sir Daniel, it is pity, indeed, we should have been at 
blows with them ; but it were tenfold greater that either 
they or we should linger here. The watchers in the house 
-r-unless they be all dead or deaf — have heard our ham- 
mering this quarter-hour agone ; instantly they will have 
signalled to the town ; and unless we be the livelier in our 
departure, we are like to be taken, both of us, by a fresh 
foe.” 

“Hawksley is in the right,” added the lord. “How 
please ye, sir ? Whither shall we march ?” 


A SKIRMISH IN THE DARK. 169 

“ Nay, my lord,” said Dick, " go where ye will for me 
I do begin to suspect we have some ground of friendship, 
and if, indeed, I began our acquaintance somewhat rug- 
gedly, I would not churlishly continue. Let us, then, 
separate, my lord, you laying your right hand in mine ; 
and at the hour and place that ye shall name, let us eH* 
counter and agree.” 

“Y* are too trustful, boy,” said the other; “but this 
time your trust is not misplaced. I will meet you at the 
point of day at St. Bride’s Cross. Come, lads, follow ! ” 

The strangers disappeared from the scene with a rapid- 
ity that seemed suspicious ; and, while the outlaws fell 
to the congenial task of rifling the dead bodies, Dick 
made once more the circuit of the garden wall to examine 
the front of the house. In a little upper loophole of the 
roof he beheld a light set ; and as it would certainly be 
visible in town from the back windows of Sir Daniel’s 
mansion, he doubted not that this was the signal feared 
by Hawksley, and that ere long the lances of the Knight 
of Tunstall would arrive upon the scene. 

He put his ear to the ground, and it seemed to him as 
if he heard a jarring and hollow noise from townward. 
Back to the beach he went hurrying. But the work was 
already done ; the last body was disarmed and stripped 
to the skin, and four fellows were already wading seaward 
to commit it to the mercies of the deep. 

A few minutes later, when there debouched out of the 
nearest lanes of Shoreby some two score horsemen, hastily 


.160 


THE BLACK AEKOW. 


arrayed and moving at the gallop of their steeds, th« 
neighbourhood of the house beside the sea was entirely 
silent and deserted. 

Meanwhile, Dick and his men had returned to the ale- 
house of the Goat and Bagpipes to snatch some hours of 
sleep before the morning tryst. 


CHAPTER HL 
ST. bride’s cross. 

St. Bride’s Cross stood a little way back from Shoreby, 
on the skirts of Tunstall Forest. Two roads met : one, 
from Holywood across the forest ; one, that road from 
Risingham down which we saw the wrecks of a Lancas- 
trian army fleeing in disorder. Here the two joined issue, 
and went on together down the hill to Shoreby ; and a little 
back from the point of junction, the summit of a little 
knoll was crowned by the ancient and weather-beaten cross. 

Here, then, about seven in the morning, Dick arrived. 
It was as cold as ever ; the earth was all grey and silver 
with the hoar-frost, and the day began to break in the 
east with many colours of purple and orange. 

Dick set him down upon the lowest step of the cross, 
wrapped himself well in his tabard, and looked vigilantly 
upon all sides. He had not long to wait. Down the road 
from Holywood a gentleman in very rich and bright ar- 


ST, bride’s cross. 


161 


mour, and wearing over that a surcoat of the rarest furs, 
came pacing on a splendid charger. Twenty yards behind 
him followed a clump of lances ; but these halted as soon 
as they came in view of the trysting-place, while the gen- 
tleman in the fur surcoat continued to advance alone. 

His visor was raised, and showed a countenance of great 
command and dignity, answerable to the richness of his at- 
tire and arms. And it was with some confusion of man- 
ner that Dick arose from the cross and stepped down the 
bank to meet his prisoner. 

“I thank you, my lord, for your exactitude,” he said, 
louting very low. “ Will it please your lordship to set 
foot to earth ? ” 

“Are ye here alone, young man? ” inquired the other. 

“ I was not so simple,” answered Dick ; “ and, to bo 
plain with your lordship, the woods upon either hand of 
this cross lie full of mine honest fellows lying on their 
weapons.” 

“ Y’ ’ave done wisely,” said the lord, “ It pleaseth me 
the rather, since last night ye fought foolhardily, and more 
like a salvage Saracen lunatic than any Christian warrior. 
But it becomes not me to complain that had the under- 
most.” 

“ Ye had the undermost indeed, my lord, since ye so 
fell,” returned Dick ; “ but had the waves not holpen me, 
it was I that should have had the worst. Ye were pleased 
to make me yours with several dagger marks, which I still 
carry. And in fine, my lord, methinks I had all the dan- 
11 


162 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


ger, as well as all the profit, of that little blind-man’s med 
ley on the beach.” 

“ Y’ £ire shrewd enough to make light of it, I see,” re« 
turned the stranger. 

“Nay, my lord, not shrewd,” replied Dick, “in that I 
shoot at no advantage to mj'self. But when, by the light of 
this new day, I see how stout a knight hath yielded, not 
to my arms alone, but to fortune, and the darkness, and 
the surf — and how easily the battle had gone otherwise, 
with a soldier so untried and rustic as myself — think it 
not strange, my lord, if I feel confounded with my victory.’ 

“Ye speak well,” said the stranger. “Your name?” 

“My name, an’t like you, is Shelton,” answered Dick. 

“Men call me the Lord Foxham,” added the other. 

“Then, my lord, and under your good favour, ye are 
guardian to the sweetest maid in England,” replied Dick ; 
“ and for your ransom, and the ransom of such as were 
taken with you on the beach, there will be no uncertainty of 
terms. I pray you, my lord, of your goodwill and chaiity, 
yield me the hand of my mistress, Joan Sedley ; and take 
ye, upon the other part, your liberty, the liberty of these 
your followers, and (if ye will have it) my gratitude and 
service tiU I die.” 

“ But are ye not ward to Sir Daniel ? Methought, if 
y’ are Harry Shelton’s son, that I had heard it so reported,* 
said Lord Foxham. 

“ Will it please you, my lord, to alight ? I would fain 
teU you fully who I am, how situate, and why so bold ip 


8T. bride’s cross. 


168 


my demanda Beseech you, my lord, take place upon 
these steps, hear me to a full end, and judge me with 
allowance.” 

And so saying, Dick lent a hand to Lord Foxham to 
dismount ; led him up the knoll to the cross ; installed him 
in the place where he had himself been sitting ; and stand- 
ing respectfully before his noble prisoner, related the 
story of his fortunes up to the events of the evening before. 

Lord Foxham listened gravely, and when Dick had done, 
“Master Shelton,” he said, “ye are a most fortunate-un- 
fortunate young gentleman ; but what fortune y’ 'ave had, 
that ye have amply merited ; and what unfortune, ye have 
noways deserved. Be of a good cheer ; for ye have made 
a friend who is devoid neither of power nor favour, For 
yourself, although it fits not for a person of your birth to 
herd with outlaws, I must own ye are both brave and 
honourable ; very dangerous in battle, right courteous 
in peace ; a youth of excellent disposition and brave bear- 
ing. For your estates, ye wiU never see them till the 
world shall change again ; so long as Lancaster hath the 
strong hand, so long shall Sir Daniel enjoy them for his 
own. For my ward, it is another matter ; I had promised 
her before to a gentleman, a kinsman of my house, one 
Hamley ; the promise is old ” 

“ Ay, my lord, and now Sir Daniel hath promised her 
to my Lord Shoreby,” interrupted Dick. “And his 
promise, for all it is but young, is still the likelier to he 
made good." 


164 


THE BLACK AKKOW. 


“ ’Tis the plain truth,” returned his lordship. "And 
considering, moreover, that I am your prisoner, upon no 
better composition than my bare life, and over and above 
that, that the maiden is unhappily in other hands, I will 
80 far consent. Aid me with your good fellows ” 

“ My lord,” cried Dick, “ they are these same outlaws 
that ye blame me for consorting with.” 

“ Let them be what they will, they can fight,” returned 
Lord Foxham. “ Help me, then ; and if between us we 
regain the maid, upon my knightly honour, she shall marry 
you !” 

Dick bent his knee before his prisoner ; but he, leaping 
up lightly from the cross, caught the lad up and embraced 
him like a son. 

“ Come,” he said, ‘ an y’ are to marry Joan, we must be 
early friends.” 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE GOOD HOPE. 

An hour thereafter, Dick was back at the Goat and Bag- 
pipes, breaking his fast, and receiving the report of his 
messengers and sentries. Duckworth was still absent 
from Shoreby ; and this was frequently the case, for he 
played many parts in the world, shared many different 
interests, and conducted many various affairs. He had 
founded that fellowship of the Black Arrow, as a ruined 


THE GOOD HOPE. 


165 


man longing for vengeance and money ; and yet among 
those who knew him best, he was thought to be the agent 
and emissary of the great King-maker of England, Kich- 
ard, Earl of Warwick. 

In his absence, at any rate, it fell upon Richard Shelton 
to command affairs in Shoreby ; and, as he sat at meat, 
his mind was full of care, and his face heavy with consid- 
eration. It had been determined, between him and the 
Lord Foxham, to make one bold stroke that evening, and, 
by brute force, to set Joanna free. The obstacles, how- 
ever, were many ; and as one after another of his scouts 
arrived, each brought him more discomfortable news. 

Sir Daniel was alarmed by the skirmish of the night 
before. He had increased the garrison of the house in the 
garden ; but not content with that, he had stationed 
horsemen in all the neighbouring lanes, so that he might 
have instant word of any movement. Meanwhile, in the 
court of his mansion, steeds stood saddled, and the riders, 
armed at every point, awaited but the signal to ride. 

The adventure of the night appeared more and more 
difficult of execution, till suddenly Dick’s countenance 
lightened. 

“ Lawless ! ” he cried, “ you that were a shipman, can 
ye steal me a ship ? ” 

“ Master Dick,” replied Lawless, “if ye would back me, 
I would agree to steal York Minster.” 

Presently after, these two set forth and descended to the 
harbour. It was a considerable basin, lying among sand 


166 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


hills, and sutrounded with patches of down, ancient ruin- 
ous lumber, and tumble-down slums of the town. Many 
decked ships and many open boats either lay there at an- 
chor, or had been drawn up on the beach. A long dura- 
tion of bad weather had driven them from the high seas 
into the shelter of the port ; and the great trooping of 
black clouds, and the cold squalls that follow'ed one 
another, now with a sprinkling of dry snow, now in a 
mere swoop of wind, promised no improvement but 
rather threatened a more serious storm in the immediate 
future. 

The seamen, in view of the cold and the wind, had for 
the most part slunk ashore, and were now roaring and 
singing in the shoreside taverns. Many of the ships 
already rode unguarded at their anchors ; and as the day 
wore on, and the weather offered no appearance of im- 
provement, the number was continually being augmented. 
It was to these deserted ships, and, above all, to those of 
them that lay far out, that Lawless directed his attention ; 
while Dick, seated upon an anchor that was half embedded 
in the sand, and giving ear, now to the rude, potent, and 
boding voices of the gale, and now to the hoarse singing 
of the shipmen in a neighbouring tavern, soon forgot his 
immediate surroundings and concerns in the agreeable 
recollection of Lord Foxham’s promise, 

He was disturbed by a touch upon his shoulder. It was 
Lawless, pointing to a small ship that lay somewhat by it- 
self, and within but a little of the harbour mouth, where 


THE GOOD HOPE. 


167 


it heaved regularly and smoothly on the entering swell 
A pale gleam of winter sunshine fell, at that moment, on 
the vessel’s deck, relieving her against a bank of scowling 
cloud ; and in this momentary glitter Dick could see a 
couple of men hauling the skiff alongside. 

There, sir,” said Lawless, “mark ye it well! There 
is the ship for to-night.” 

Presently the skiff put out from the vessel’s side, and the 
two men, keeping her head well to the wind, pulled lustily 
for shore. Lawless turned to a loiterei*. 

“ How call ye her ? ” he asked, pointing to the little ves- 
sel 

“ They call her the Good Hope, of Dartmouth,” replied 
the loiterer. “ Her captain, Arblaster by name. He pul- 
leth the bow oar in yon skiff.” 

This was all that Lawless wanted. Hurriedly thanking 
the man, he moved roimd the shore to a certain sandy 
creek, for which the skiff was heading. There he took up 
his position, and as soon as they were within earshot, 
opened fire on the sailors of the Good Hope. 

“What! Gossip Arblaster!” he cried. “Why, ye be ’ 
well met ; nay, gossip, ye be right well met, upon the 
rood ! And is that the Good Hope ? Ay, I would know 
her among ten thousand ! — a sweet shear, a sweet boat I 
But marry come up, my gossip, will ye drink ? I have 
come into mine estate which doubtless ye remember to 
have heard on. I am now rich ; I have left to sail upon \ 
the sea ; I do sail now, for the most part, upon spiced ala | 


168 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


Come, fellow ; thy hand upon ’t ! Come, drink with an 
old shipfellow ! ” 

Skipper Arblaster, a long-faced, elderly, weather-beaten 
man, with a knife hanging about his neck by a plaited 
cord, and for all the world like any modern seaman in his 
gait and bearing, had hung back in obvious amazement 
and distrust. But the name of an estate, and a certain air 
of tipsified simplicity and good-fellowship which Lawless 
very w’ell affected, combined to conquer his suspicious 
jealousy ; his countenance relaxed, and he at once extend- 
ed his open hand and squeezed that of the outlaw in a for- 
miable grasp. 

“Nay,” he said, “I cannot mind you. But what o’ 
that ? I would drink with any man, gossip, and so would 
my man Tom. Man Tom,” he added, addressing his fol- 
lower, “here is my gossip, whose name I cannot mind, but 
no doubt a very good seaman. Let’s go drink with him 
and his shore friend.” 

Lawless led the way, and they were soon seated in an 
alehouse, which, as it was very new, and stood in an ex- 
posed and solitary station, was less crowded than those 
nearer to the centre of the port. It was but a shed of tim- 
ber, much like a blockhouse in the backwoods of to-day, 
and was coarsely furnished with a press or two, a number 
of naked benches, and boards set upon baiTels to play the 
part of tables. In the middle, and besieged by half a hun- 
dred violent dz-aughts, a ffre of wreck-wood blazed and 
vomited thick smoke. 


THE GOOD HOPE. 


169 


“Ay, now,” said Lawless, “ here is a shipman’s joy — a 
good fire and a good stiff cup ashore, with foul weather 
without and an off-sea gale a-snoring in the roof ! Here’s 
to the Good Hope ! May she ride easy ! ” 

“ Ay,” said Skipper Arblaster, “ ’tis good weather to be 
ashore in, that is sooth. Man Tom, how say ye to that ? 
Gossip, ye speak well, though I can never think upon your 
name ; but ye speak very well. May the Good Hope ride 
easy ! Amen ! ” 

“ Friend Dickon,” resumed Lawless, addressing his com- 
mander, “ ye have certain matters on hand, unless I err ? 
Well, prithee be about them incontinently. For here I be 
with the choice of all good company, two tough old ship- 
men ; and till that ye return I will go warrant these brave 
fellows will bide here and drink me ciip for cup. We are 
not like shore-men, we old, tough tarry- Johns ! ” 

“ It is well meant,” returned the skipper. “ Ye can go, 
boy ; for I will keep your good friend and my good gossip 
company till curfew — ay, and by St. Mary, till the sun get 
up again ! For, look ye, when a man hath been long 
enough at sea, the salt getteth me into the clay upon his 
bones ; and let him drink a draw-well, he will never be 
quenched,” 

Thus encouraged upon all hands, Dick rose, saluted his 
company, and going forth ajg^;^:‘i|i£c^‘ the gusty afternoon, 
got him as speedily might to the Goat and Bagpipes. 
Thence he sent word to my Lord Foxham that, so soon as 
ever the evening closed, they would have a stout boat to 


170 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


keep the sea in. And then leading along with him a 
couple of outlaws who had some experience of the sea, he 
returned himself to the harbour and the little sandy creek. 

The skiff of the Good Hope lay among many others, 
from which it was easily distinguished by its extreme 
smallness and fragility. Indeed, when Dick and his two 
men had taken their places, and begun to put forth out of 
the creek into the open harbour, the little cockle dipped 
into the swell and staggered under every gust of wind, 
like a thing upon the point of sinking. 

The Good Hope, as we have said, was anchored far out, 
where the swell was heaviest. No other vessel lay nearer 
than several cables’ length ; those that were the nearest 
were themselves entirely deserted ; and as the skiff ap- 
proached, a thick flurry of snow and a sudden darken- 
ing of the weather further concealed the movements of 
the outlaws from all possible espial. In a trice they had 
leaped upon the heaving deck, and the skiff was dancing 
at the stern. The Good Hope was captured. 

She was a good stout boat, decked in the bows and 
amidships, but open in the stern. She carried one mast^ 
and was rigged between a felucca and a lugger. It would 
seem that Skipper Arblaster had made an excellent ven- 
ture, for the hold was full of pieces of French wine ; and 
in the little cabin, besides the Virgin Mary in the bulk- 
head which proved the captain’s piety, there were many 
lockfast chests and cupboards, which showed him to b« 
rich and carefuL 


THE GOOD HOPE. 


171 


A dog, who was the sole occupant of the vessel, furiously 
barked and bit the heels of the boarders ; but he was 
soon kicked into the cabin, and the door shut upon his 
just resentment. A lamp was lit and fixed in the shi'ouds 
to mark the vessel clearly from the shore ; one of the 
wine pieces in the hold was broached, and a cup of ex- 
cellent Gascony emptied to the adventure of the evening ; 
and then, while one of the outlaws began to get ready his 
bow and arrows and prepare to hold the ship against all 
comers, the other hauled in the skiff and got overboard, 
where he held on, waiting for Dick. 

“ Well, Jack, keep me a good watch,” said the young 
commander, preparing to follow his subordinate. “Ye 
will do right well.” 

“Why,” returned Jack, “I shall do excellent well in- 
deed, so long as we lie here ; but once we put the nose of 

this poor ship outside the harbour See, there she 

trembles ! Nay, the poor shrew heard the words, and the 
heart misgave her in her oak-tree ribs. But look. Master 
Dick ! how black the weather gathers I ” 

The darkness ahead was, indeed, astonishing. Great 
billows heaved up out of the blackness, one after another ; 
and one after another the Good Hope buoyantly climbed, 
and giddily plunged upon the further side. A thin 
sprinkle of snow and thin flakes of foam came flying, and 
powdered the deck ; and the wind harped dismally among 
the rigging. 

“In sooth, it looketh evilly,” said Dick. “But what 


172 THE SLACK AKKOW. 

cheer! *Tis but a squall, and presently it will blow 
over.” Buf, in spite of his words, he was depressiugly af. 
fected by the bleak disorder of the sky and the wailing 
ond fluting of the wind ; and as he got over the side of 
the Good Hope and made once more for the landing- 
creek with the best speed of oars, he crossed himself de- 
voutly, and recommended to Heaven the lives of all who 
should adventure on the sea. 

At the landing-creek there had already gathered about 
a dozen of the outlaws. To these the skiff was left, and 
they were bidden embark wnthout delay. 

A little further up the beach Dick found Lord Foxham 
hurrying in quest of him, his face concealed with a dark 
hood, and his bright armour covered by a long russet 
mantle of a poor appearance. 

“Young Shelton,” he said, “are ye for sea, then, 
truly? ” 

“ My lord,” replied Richard, “ they lie about the house 
with horsemen ; it may not be reached from the land side 
without alarum ; and Sir Daniel once advertised of our 
adventure, we can no more carry it to a good end than, 
saving your presence, we could ride upon the wind. Now, 
in going round by sea, we do run some peril by the ele- 
ments ; but, what much outweighteth all, we have a chance 
to make good our purpose and bear off the maid.” 

“Well,” returned Lord Foxham, “lead on. I will, in 
some sort, follow you for shame’s sake ; but I own I would 
I were in bed.” 


THE GOOD HOPE. 


173 


“Here, then,” said Dick. “Hither we go to fetch our 
pilot.” 

And he led the way to the rude alehouse where he had 
given rendezvous to a portion of his men. Some of these 
he found lingering round the door outside ; others had 
pushed more boldly in, and, choosing places as near as 
possible to where they saw their comrade, gathered close 
about Lawless and the two shipmen. These, to judge by 
the distempered countenance and cloudy eye, had long 
since gone beyond the boundaries of moderation ; and as 
Richard entered, closely followed by Lord Foxham, they 
were all three tuning up an old, pitiful sea-ditty, to the 
chorus of the wailing of the gale. 

The young leader cast a rapid glance about tbo shed. 
The fire had just been replenished, and gave forth vol- 
umes of black smoke, so that it was difficult to see clearly 
in the further corners. It was plain, however', that the 
outlaws very largely outnumbered the remainder of the 
guests. Satisfied ujion this point, in case of any failure in 
the operation of his plan, Dick strode up to the table and 
resumed his place upon the bench. 

“ Hey ? ” cried the skipper, tipsily, “ who are ye, hey ? ” 

“I want a word with you without. Master Arblaster,” 
returned Dick ; “ and here is what wo shall talk of.” And 
he showeil him a gold noble in the glimmer of the fii-e* 
light 

The Shipman’s eyes burned, although he still failed to 
recognize our hero. 


174 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


“ Ay, hoy,” he said, “ I am with you. Gossip, I will be 
back anon. Drink fair, gossip and, taking Dick's arm 
to steady his uneven steps, he walked to the door of the 
alehouse. 

As soon as he was over the threshold, ten strong arms 
had seized and bound him ; and in two minutes more, 
with his limbs trussed one to another, and a good gag in 
his mouth, he had been tumbled neck and crop into a 
neighbouring hay-barn. Presently, his man Tom, similarly 
secured, was tossed beside him, and the pair were left to 
their uncouth reflections for the night. 

And now, as the time for concealment had gone by, 
Lord Foxham’s followers were summoned by a preconcerted 
signal, and the party, boldly taking possession of as many 
boats as their numbers required, pulled in a flotilla for 
the light in the rigging of the ship. Long before the 
last man had climbed to the deck of the Good Hope, the 
sound of furious shouting from the shore showed that a 
part, at least, of the seamen had discovered the loss of 
their skiffs. 

But it was now too late, whether for recovery or revenge. 
Out of some forty fighting men now mustered in the 
stolen ship, eight had been to sea, and could play the 
pEU’t of mariners. With the aid of these, a slice of sail 
was got upon her. The cable was cut. Lawless, vacil- 
lating on his feet, and still shouting the chorus of sea- 
ballads, took the long tiller in his hands : and the Good 
Hope began to flit forward into the darkness of the 


THE GOOD HOPE. 


175 


night, and to face the great waves bejBnd the harbour 
bar. 

Richard took his place beside the weather rigging. 
Except for the ship’s own lantei-n, and for some lights in 
Shoreby town, that were already fading to leeward, the 
whole world of air was as black as in a pit. Only from 
time to time, as the Good Hope swooped dizzily down 
into the valley of the rollers, a crest would break — a great 
cataract of snowy foam would leap in one instant into be- 
ing — and, in an instant more, would stream into the wake 
and vanish. 

Many of the men lay holding on and praying aloud ; 
many more were sick, and had crept into the bottom, 
where they sprawled among the cargo. And what with 
the extreme violence of the motion, and the continued 
drunken bravado of Lawless, still shouting and singing at 
the helm, the stoutest heart on board may have nourished 
a shrewd misgiving as to the result. 

But Lawless, as if guided by an instinct, steered the 
ship across the breakers, struck the lee of a great sand- 
bank, where they sailed for a while in smooth water, and 
presently after laid her alongside a rude, stone pier, where 
she was hastily made fast, and lay ducking and grinding 
in the dark. 


176 


TUE BLACK ARROW. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE GOOD HOPE {continued). 

The pier was not far distant from the house in which 
Joanna lay ; it now only remained to get the men on shore, 
to surround the house with a strong party, burst in the 
door and cari-y off the captive. They might then regard 
themselves as done with the Good Hope ; it had placed 
them on the rear of their enemies ; and the reti’eat, 
whether they should succeed or fail in the main enter- 
prise, would be directed with a greater measure of hope 
in the direction of the forest and my Lord Forham’s 
reserve. 

To get the men on shore, however, was no easy task ; 
many had been sick, all were pierced with cold ; the pro- 
miscuity and disorder on board had shaken their disci- 
pline ; the movement of the ship and the darkness of the 
night had cowed their spirits. They made a rush upon 
the pier ; my lord, with his sword drawn on his own re- 
tainers, must throw himself in front ; and this impulse of 
rabblement was not restrained without a certain clamour 
of voices, highly to be regretted in the case. 

VGien some degree of order had been restored, Dick, 
with a few chosen men, set forth in advance. The dark- 
ness on shore, by contrast with the flashing of the surf, 


THE GOOD HOPE. 


177 


appeared before him like a solid bod^ ; and the howling 
and whistling of the gale drowned any lesser noise. 

He had scarce reached the end of the pier, however, 
when there fell a lull of the wind ; and in this he seemed 
to hear on shore the hollow footing of horses and the 
clash of arms. Checking his immediate followers, he 
l^assed forward a step or two alone, even setting foot upon 
the down ; and here he made sure he could detect the 
shape of men and horses moving. A strong discourage- 
ment assailed him. If their enemies were really on the 
watch, if they had beleaguered the shoreward end of the 
pier, he and Lord Foxham were taken in a posture of 
very poor defence, the sea behind, the men jostled in the 
dark upon a narrow causeway. He gave a cautious whis- 
tle, the signal previously agreed upon. 

It proved to be a signal far more than he desired. In- 
stantly there fell, through the black night, a shower of 
arrows sent at a venture ; and so close were the men hud- 
dled on the pier that more than one was hit, and the ar- 
rows were answered with cries of both fear and pain. In 
this first discharge, Lord Foxham was struck down ; 
Hawksley had him carried on board again at once ; and his 
men, during the bx'ief remainder of the skirmish, fought 
(wlien they fought at all) without guidance. That was 
perhaps the chief cause of the disaster which made haste 
to follow. 

At the shore end of the pier, for perhaps a minute, Dick 
held his own with a handful ; one or two were wounded 
12 


178 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


upon either side ; steel crossed steel ; nor had there been 
the least signal of advantage, when in the twinkling of an 
eye the tide turned against the party from the ship. 
Someone cried out that all was lost ; the men were in the 
very humour to lend an ear to a discomfortable counsel ; 
the cry was taken up. “ On board, lads, for your lives ! ” 
cried another. A third, with the true instinct of the cow- 
ard, raised that inevitable report on all retreats : “We are 
betrayed ! ” And in a moment the whole mass of men 
went surging and jostling backward down the pier, turn- 
ing their defenceless backs on their pursuers and piercing 
the night with craven outcry. 

One cowai'd thrust oflf the ship’s stem, while another 
still held her by the bows. The fugitives leaped, scream- 
ing, and were hauled on board, or fell back and perished 
in the sea. Some were cut down upon the pier by the 
pursuers. Many were injured on the ship’s deck in the 
blind haste and terror of the moment, one man leaping 
upon another, and a third on both. At last, and whether 
by design or accident, the bows of the Good Hope were 
liberated ; and the ever-ready Lawless, who had main- 
tained his place at the helm through all the hurly-burly 
by sheer strength of body and a liberal use of the cold 
steel, instantly clapped her on the proper tack. The ship 
began to move once more forward on the stormy sea, its 
scuppers running blood, its deck heaped with fallen men, 
sprawling and struggling in the dark. 

Thereupon, Lawless sheathed his dagger, and turning 


THE GOOD HOPE. 


179 


to his next neighbour, “ I have left my mark on them, 
gossip,” said he, “the yelping, coward hounds.” 

Now, while they were all leaping and struggling for 
their lives, the men had not appeared to observe the 
rough shoves and cutting stabs with which Lawless had 
.held his post in the confusion. But perhaps they had 
already begun to understand somewhat more clearly, 
or perhaps another ear had overheard, the helmsman’s 
speech. 

Panic-stricken troops recover slowly, and men who have 
just disgraced themselves by cowardice, as if to wipe out 
the memory of their fault, will sometimes run straight in- 
to the opposite extreme of insubordination. So it was 
now ; and the same men who had thrown away their 
weapons and been hauled, feet foremost, into the Gkmd 
Hope, began to cry out upon their leaders, and demand 
that someone should be punished. 

This growing ill-feeling turned upon Lawless. 

In order to get a proper offing, the old outlaw had put 
the head of the Good Hope to seaward. 

“What !” bawled one of the grumblers, “he carrieth 
us to seaward ! ” 

“ Tis sooth,” cried another. “ Nay, we are betrayed for 
sure.” 

And they all began to cry out in chorus that they were 
betrayed, and in shrill tones and with abominable oaths 
bade Lawless go about-ship and bring them speedily 
ashore. Lawless, grinding his teeth, continued in silence 


180 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


to steer the true course, guiding the Good Hope among 
the formidable billows. To their empty terrors, as to 
their dishonourable threats, between drink and dignity 
he scorned to make reply. The malcontents drew to- 
gether a little abaft the mast, and it was plain they were 
like barnyard cocks, “ crowing for courage.” Presently 
they would be fit for any extremity of injustice or ingrati- 
tude. Dick began to mount by the ladder, eager to inter- 
pose ; but one of the outlaws, who was also something of 
a seaman, got beforehand. 

“Lads,” he began, “y’are right wooden heads, I think. 
For to get back, by the mass, we must have an offing, 
must we not ? And this old Lawless ” 

Someone struck the speaker on the mouth, and the 
next moment, as a fire springs among dry straw, he was 
felled upon the deck, trampled under the feet, and de- 
spatched by the daggers of his cowardly companions. At 
this the wrath of Lawless rose and broke. 

“Steer yourselves,” he bellowed, with a curse; and, 
careless of the result, he left the helm. 

The Good Hope was, at that moment, trembling on the 
summit of a swell. She subsided, with sickening velocity, 
upon the farther side. A wave, like a great black bul- 
wark, hove immediately in front of her ; and, with a stag- 
gering blow, she plunged headforemost through that liquid 
hill. The green water passed right over her from stem 
to stem, as high as a man’s knees ; the sprays ran higher 
than the mast ; and she rose again upon the other side, 


THK GOOD nOPE. 


181 


with an appalling tremulous indecision, like a beast that 
has been deadly woimded. 

Six or seven of the malcontents had been carried bodily 
overboard ; and as for the remainder, when they found 
their tongues again, it was to bellow to the saints and 
wail upon Lawless to come back and take the tiller. 

Nor did Lawless wait to be twice bidden. The terrible 
result of his fling of just resentment sobered him com- 
pletely. He knew, better than any one on board, how 
nearly the Good Hope had gone bodily down below their 
feet ; and he could tell, by the laziness with which she met 
the sea, that the peril was by no means over. 

Dick, who had been thrown down by the concussion 
and half drowned, rose wading to his knees in the swamped 
,7ell of the stern, and crept to the old helmsman’s side. 

“ Lawless,” he said, “ we do all depend on you ; y’ are a 
brave, steady man, indeed, and crafty in the management 
of ships ; I shall put three sure men to watch upon your 
safety.” 

“Bootless, my master, bootless,” said the steersman, 
peeling forward through the dark. “ We come every mo- 
ment somewhat clearer of these sandbanks ; with every 
moment, then, the sea packeth upon us heavier, and for 
all these whimperers, they will presently be on their backs. 
For, my master, ’tis a right mystery, but true, there never 
yet was a bad man that was a good shipman. None but the 
honest and the bold can endure me this tossing of a ship.” 

“ Nay, Lawless," said Dick, laughing, “ that is a right 


182 


THE BLACK AKROW. 


Shipman’s byword, and hath no more of sense than tha 
whistle of the wind. But, prithee, how go we ? Do we 
lie well ? Are we in good case ? ” 

“Master Shelton,” replied Lawless, “I have been a 
Grey Friar — I praise fortune — an archer, a thief, and a 
shipman. Of all these coats, I had the best fancy to die 
in the Grey Friar’s, as ye may readily conceive, and the 
least fancy to die in John Shipman’s tarry jacket ; and 
that for two excellent good reasons : first, that the death 
might take a man suddenly ; and second, for the horror 
of that great, salt smother and welter under my foot 
here ” — and Lawless stamped with his foot. “ Howbeit,** 
he went on, “an I die not a sailor’s death, and that this 
night, I shall owe a tall candle to our Lady.” 

“ Is it so ? ” asked Dick. 

“It is right so,” replied the outlaw. “Do ye not feel 
how heavy and dull she moves upon the waves ? Do ye 
not hear the water washing in her hold ? She will scarce 
mind the rudder even now. Bide till she has settled a bit 
lower ; and she will either go down below your boots like 
a stone image, or drive ashore here, under our lee, and 
come all to pieces like a twist of string.” 

“Te speak with a good courage,” returned Dick. “Ye 
are not then appalled ? ” 

“Why, master,” answered Lawless, “if ever a man had 
an ill crew to come to port with, it is I — a renegade friar, 
a thief, and all the rest on’t. Well, ye may wonder, but 
I keep a good hope in my wallet ; and if that I be to 


THK GOOD HOPK. 


183 


drown, I will drown with a bright eye, Master Shelton, 
and a steady hand.” 

Dick returned no answer ; but he was surprised to find 
the old vagabond of so resolute a temper, and fearing 
some fresh violence or treachery, set forth upon his quest 
for three sure men. The great bulk of the men had now 
deserted the deck, which was continually wetted with the 
flying sprays, and where they lay exposed to the shrewd- 
ness of the winter wind. They had gathered, instead, into 
the hold of the merchandise, among the butts of wine, 
and lighted by two swinging lanterns. 

Here a few kept up the form of revelry, and toasted 
each other deep in Arblaster’s Gascony wine. But as the 
Good Hope continued to tear through the smoking waves, 
and toss her stem and stem alternately high in air and 
deep into white foam, the number of these jolly compan- 
ions diminished with every moment and with every lurch. 
Many sat apart, tending their hurts, but the majority 
were already prostrated with sickness, and lay moaning 
in the bilge. 

Greensheve, Cuckow, and a young fellow of Lord 
Foxham’s whom Dick had already remarked for his in- 
telligence and spirit, were still, however, both fit to un- 
derstand and willing to obey. These Dick set, as a body- 
guard, about the person of the steersman, and then, Avith 
a last look at the black sky and sea, he turned and went 
below into the cabin, whither Lord Foxham had been car* 
ried by his servants. 


1S4 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


CHAPTER VL 

THE GOOD HOPE {concluded). 

The moans of the wounded baron blended with the wail- 
ing of the ship’s dog. The poor animal, whether he was 
merely sick at heart to be separated from his friends, or 
whether he indeed recognized some peril in the labouring 
of the ship, raised his cries, like minute-guns, above the 
roar of wave and weather ; and the more superstitious of 
the men heard, in these sounds, the knell of the Good 
Hope. 

Lord Foxham had been laid in a berth upon a fur cloak. 
A little lamp burned dim before the Virgin in the bulk- 
head, and by its glimmer Dick could see the pale counte- 
nance and hollow eyes of the hurt man. 

“ I am sore hurt,” said he. “ Come near to my side, 
young Shelton ; let there be one by me who, at least, is 
, gentle born ; for after having lived nobly and richly all 
the days of my life, this is a sad pass that I should get 
my hurt in a little ferreting skirmish, and die here, in a 
foul, cold ship upon the sea, among broken men and 
churls.” 

“Nay, my lord,” said Dick, “I pray rather to the saints 
that ye will recover you of your hurt, and come soon and 
sound ashore.” 


THE GOOD HOPE. 


185 


” How !”' demanded his lordship. “Come sound 
ashore ? There is, then, a question of it ? ” 

“The ship laboureth — the sea is grievous and con- 
trary,” replied the lad ; “ and by what I can learn of my 
fellow that steereth us, we shall do well, indeed, if we 
come dryshod to land.” 

“ Ha ! ” said the baron, gloomily, “ thus shall every 
terror attend upon the passage of my soul ! Sir, pray 
rather to live hard, that ye may die easy, than to be 
fooled and fluted all through life, as to the pipe and 
tabor, and, in the last hour, be plunged among misfor- 
tunes ! Howbeit, I have that upon my mind that must 
not be delayed. We have no priest aboard ? ” 

“None,” replied Dick. 

“Here, then, to my secular interests,” resumed Lord 
Foxham : “ye must be as good a friend to me dead, as I 
found you a gallant enemy when I was living. I fall in 
an evil hour for me, for England, and for them that 
trusted me. My men are being brought by Hamley — he 
that was your rival ; they will rendezvous in the long 
holm at Holywood ; this ring from off my finger will ac- 
credit you to represent mine orders ; and I shall write, 
besides, two words upon this paper, bidding Hamley yield 
to you the damsel. Will ye obey ? I know not.” 

“But, my lord, what orders?” inquired Dick. 

“ Ay,” quoth the baron, “ ay — the orders ; ” and he 
looked upon Dick with hesitation. “ Are ye Lancaster of 
Xork ? ” he asked, at length. 


186 


THE BLACK AKROW. 


“ I shame to say it,” answered Dick, “ I can scarce 
clearly answer. But so much I think is certain : since I 
serve with Ellis Duckworth, I serve the House of York. 
Well, if that be so, I declare for York.” 

“ It is well,” returned the other ; “ it is exceeding well. 
For, truly, had ye said Lancaster, I wot not for the world 
what I had done. But sith ye are for York, follow me. 
I came hither but to watch these lords at Shoreby, while 
mine excellent young lord, Richard of Gloucester,* pre- 
pareth a sufficient force to fall upon and scatter them. 
I have made me notes of their strength, what watch they 
keep, and how they lie ; and these I was to deliver to my 
young lord on Sunday, an hour before noon, at St. Bride’s 
Cross beside the forest. This tryst I am not like to keep, 
but I pray you, of courtesy, to keep it in my stead ; and 
see that not pleasure, nor pain, tempest, wound, nor pes- 
tilence withhold you from the hour and place, for the 
welfare of England lieth upon this cast.” 

‘*I do soberly take this upon me,” said Dick. ‘*In so 
far as in me lieth, your purpose shall be done.” 

" It is good,” said the wounded man. My lord duke 
shall order you farther, and if ye obey him with spirit 
and good will, then is your fortune made. Give me the 
lamp a little nearer to mine eyes, till that I write these 
words for you.” 

'* At the date of this story, Richard Crookback could not have 
been created Duke of Gloucester ; but for clearness, with the 
reader’s leave, he shall so be called. 


THE GOOD HOPE. 


.187 


He wrote a note “to his worshipful kinsman, Sir John 
Hamley and then a second, which he left without ex- 
ternal superscripture. 

“ This is for the duke,” he said. “ The word is ‘ Eng- 
land and Edward,’ and the counter, ‘England and York.’” 

“ And Joanna, my lord ? ” asked Dick. 

“ Nay, ye must get Joanna how ye can,” replied the 
baron. “ I have named you for my choice in both these 
letters ; but ye must get her for yoiirself, boy. I have 
tried, as ye see here before you, and have lost my life. 
More covild no man do.” 

By this time the wounded man began to be very weary ; 
and Dick, putting the precious papers in his bosom, bade 
him be of good cheer, and left him to repose. 

The day was beginning to break, cold and blue, with 
flying squalls of snow. Close under the lee of the Good 
Hope, the coast lay in alternate rocky headlands and 
sandy bays ; and further inland the wooded hill-tops of 
Tunstall showed along the sky. Both the wind and the 
sea had gone down ; but the vessel wallowed deep, and 
scarce rose upon the wavea 

Lawless was still fixed at the rudder ; and by this time 
nearly all the men had crawled on deck, and were now 
gazing, with blank faces, upon the inhospitable coast. 

“ Are we going ashore ? ” asked Dick. 

“Ay,” said Lawless, “unless we get first to the bot* 
tom.” 

And just then the ship rose so languidly to meet a sea, 


188 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


and the water weltered so loudly in her hold, that Dich 
involuntarily seized the steersman by the arm. 

“ By the mass ! ” cried Dick, as the bows of the Good 
Hope reappeared above the foam, “ I thought we had foun- 
dered, indeed ; my heart was at my throat.” 

In the waist, Greensheve, Hawksley, and the better 
men of both companies were busy breaking up the deck 
to build a raft ; and to these Dick joined himself, working 
the harder to drown the memory of his predicament 
But, even as he worked, everj’^ sea that struck the poor 
ship, and eveiy one of her dull lurches, as she tumbled 
wallowing among the waves, recalled him with a horrid 
pang to the immediate proximity of death. 

Presently, looking up from his work, he saw that they 
were close in below a promontory ; a piece of ruinous 
cliff, against the base of which the sea broke white and 
heavy, almost overplumbed the deck ; and, above that, 
again, a house appeared, crowning a down. 

Inside the bay the seas ran gayly, raised the Good 
Hope upon their foam-flecked shoulders, carried her be- 
yond the control of the steersman, and in a moment 
dropped her, with a great concussion, on the sand, and 
began to break over her half-mast high, and roll her to 
and fro. Another great wave followed, raised her again, 
and carried her yet farther in ; and then a third succeeded, 
and left her far inshore of the more dangerous breakers, 
Wedged upon a bank. 

“Now, boys,” cried Lawless, “the saints have had a 


THE GOOD HOPE. 


189 


care of us, indeed. The tide ebbs ; let us but sit down 
and drink a cup of wine, and before half an horn* ye may 
all march me ashore as safe as on a bridge.” 

A barrel was broached, and, sitting in what shelter 
they could find from the flying snow and spray, the ship- 
wrecked company handed the cup around, and sought to 
warm their bodies and restore their spirits. 

Dick, meanwhile, returned to Lord Foxham, who lay in 
great perplexity and fear, the floor of his cabin washing 
knee-keep in water, and the lamp, which had been his only 
light, broken and extinguished by the violence of tho 
blow. 

“ My lord,” said young Shelton, “ fear not at all ; the 
saints are plainly for us ; the seas have cast us high upon 
a shoal, and as soon as the tide hath somewhat ebbed, we 
may walk ashore upon our feet.” 

It was nearly an hour before the vessel was sufficiently 
deserted by the ebbing sea ; and they could set forth for 
the land, which appeared dimly before them through a 
veil of driving snow. 

Upon a hillock on one side of their way a party of men 
lay huddled together, suspiciously observing the move- 
ments of the new arrivals. 

“ They might draw near and offer us some comfort,” 
Dick remarked. 

“Well, an’ they come not to us, let us even turn 
aside to them,” said Hawksley. “ The sooner we come to 
a good fire and a dry bed the better for my poor lord.” 


190 


THE BLACK AREOW. 


But they had not moved far in the direction of the hil- 
lock, before the men, with one consent, rose suddenly to 
their feet, and poured a flight of well-directed arrows on 
the shipwrecked company. 

“ Back ! back ! ” cried his lordship. “ Beware, in 
Heaven’s name, that ye reply not.” 

“Nay,” cried Greensheve, pulling an arrow from his 
leather jack. “We are in no posture to fight, it is 
certain, being drenching wet, dog-weary, and three-parts 
frozen ; but, for the love of old England, what aileth them 
to shoot thus cruelly on their poor country people in dis- 
tress ? ” 

“ They take us to be French pirates,” answered Lord 
Foxham. “In these most troublesome and degenerate 
days we cannot keep our own shores of England ; but our 
old enemies, whom we once chased on sea and land, do 
now range at pleasure, robbing and slaughtering and 
burning. It is the pity and reproach of this poor 
land.” 

The men upon the hillock lay, closely observing them, 
while they trailed upward from the beach and wound in- 
land among desolate sand-hills ; for a mile or so they even 
himg upon the rear of the march, ready, at a sign, to pour 
another volley on the weary and dispirited fugitives ; and 
it was only when, striking at length upon a firm high-road, 
Dick began to call his men to some more martial order, 
that these jealous guardians of the coast of England si- 
lently disappeared among the snow. They had done what 


THTi; GOOD HOPE. 


191 


they desired ; they had protected their own homes and 
farms, their own families and cattle ; and their private in- 
terest being thus secured, it mattered not the weight of a 
straw to any one of them, although the Frenchmen should 
carry blood and fire to every other parish in the realm of 
England 


BOOK IV.— THE DISGUISE. 

CHAPTER I. 

THE DEN. 

The place where Dick had struck the line of a high- 
road was not far from Holywood, and within nine or ten 
miles of Shoreby-on-the-Till ; and here, after making 
sure that they were pursued no longer, the two bodies 
separated. Lord Foxham’s followers departed, carrying 
their wounded master towards the comfort and security 
of the great abbey; and Dick, as he saw them wind 
away and disappear in the thick curtain of the falling 
snow, was left alone with near upon a dozen outlaws, the 
last remainder of his troop of volmiteers. 

Some were wounded; one and all were furious at 
their ill-success and long exposure; and though they 
were now too cold and hungry to do more, they grumbled 
and cast sullen looks upon their leaders. Dick emptied 
his purse among them, leaving himself nothing ; thanked 
them for the courage they had displayed, though he could 
have found it more readily in his heart to rate them for 
poltroonery; and having thus somewhat softened the 
effect of his prolonged misfortune, despatched them to 


THE DEI. 


193 


find their way, either severally or in pairs, to Shoreby 
and the Goat and Bagpipes. 

For his own part, influenced by what he had seen on 
board of the Good Hope, he chose Lawless to be his 
companion on the walk. The snow was falling, without 
pause or variation, in one even, blinding cloud ; the wind 
had been strangled, and now blew no longer; and the 
whole world was blotted out and sheeted down below 
that silent inundation. There was great danger of wan- 
dering by the way and perishing in drifts ; and Lawless, 
keeping half a step in front of his companion, and hold- 
ing his head forward like a hunting dog upon the scent, 
inquired his way of every tree, and studied out their 
path as though he were conning a ship among dangers. 

About a mile into the forest they came to a place 
where several ways met, under a grove of lofty and con- 
torted oaks. Even in the narrow horizon of the falling 
snow, it was a spot that could not fail to be recognized ; 
and Lawless evidently recognized it with particular 
delight. 

“Now, Master Eichard,” said he, “an y’ are not too 
proud to be the guest of a man who is neither a gentle- 
man by birth nor so much as a good Christian, I can 
offer you a cup of wine and a good Are to melt the 
marrow in your frozen bones.” 

“Lead on, Will,” answered Dick. “A cup of wine and 
a good Are! Nay, I would go a far way round to see 
them.” 

Lawless turned aside under the bare branches of the 
13 


194 


THE BLACK AEKOW. 


grove, and, walking i-esolutely forward for some time, 
came to a steepish hollow or den, that had now drifted a 
quarter full of snow. On the verge, a great beech-tree 
hung, precariously rooted ; and here the old outlaw, pull- 
ing aside some bushy underwood, bodily disappeared into 
the earth. 

The beech had, in some violent gale, been half-uprooted, 
and had torn up a considerable stretch of turf ; and it 
was under this that old Lawless had dug out his forest 
hiding-place. The roots served him for rafters, the turf 
was his thatch ; for walls and floor he had his mother the 
earth. Bude as it was, the hearth in one corner, blackened 
by fire, and the presence in another of a large oaken chest 
well fortified with iron, showed it at one glance to be the 
den of a man, and not the burrow of a digging beast. 

Tliough the snow had drifted at the mouth and sifted 
in upon the floor of this earth cavern, yet was the air much 
warmer than without ; and when Lawless had struck a 
spark, and the dry furze bushes had begun to blaze and 
crackle on the hearth, the place assumed, even to the eye, 
an air of comfort and of home. 

With a sigh of great contentment. Lawless spread his 
broad hands before the fire, and seemed to breathe the 
smoke. 

“ Here, then," he said, “ is this old Lawless’s rabbit- 
hole ; pray Heaven there come no terrier ! Far I have 
rolled hither and thither, and here and about, since that 
X was fourteen years of mine age and first ran away from 


TOE DEN. 


195 


mine abbey, with the eacriet’s gold chain and a mass-book 
that I sold for four mai’ks. I have been in England and 
France and Burgundy, and in Spain, too, on a pilgrimage 
for my poor soul ; and upon the sea, which is no man’s 
country. But here is my place. Master Shelton. This is 
my native land, this burrow in the earth ! Come rain or 
wind — and whether it’s April, and the birds all sing, and 
the blossoms fall about my bed — or whether it’s winter, 
and I sit alone with my good gossip the fire, and robin red 
breast twitters in the woods — here, is my church and mar- 
ket, and my wife and child. It’s here I come back to, and 
it’s here, so please the saints, that I would like to die.” 

“’Tis a warm corner, to be sure,” replied Dick, “ and a 
pleasant, and a well hid.” 

“ It had need to be,” returned Lawless, “ for an they 
found it, Master Shelton, it woidd break my heart. But 
here,” he added, burrowing with his stout fingers in the 
sandy floor, “ here is my wine cellar ; and ye shall have a 
flask of excellent strong stingo.” 

Sure enough, after but a little digging, he produced a 
big leathern bottle of about a gallon, nearly three-parts full 
of a very heady and sweet wine ; and when they had drunk 
to each other comradely, and the fire had been replenished 
and blazed up again, the pair lay at full length, thawing 
and steaming, and divinely warm. 

“Master Shelton,” observed the outlaw, “y’ ’ave had 
two mischances this last while, and y* are like to lose the 
maid— do I take it aright ? ” 


196 


THE BLACK AKROW. 


“Aright ! ” returned Dick, nodding his head. 

“ Well, now,” continued Lawless, “ hear an old fool that 
hath been nigh-hand everything, and seen nigh-hand 
all ! Ye go too much on other people’s errands. Master 
Dick. Ye go on Ellis’s ; but he desireth rather the death 
of Sir Daniel. Ye go on Lord Foxham’s ; well — the 
saints preserve him ! — doubtless he meaneth welL But go 
ye upon your own, good Dick. Come right to the maid’s 
side. Court her, lest that she forget you. Be ready ; and 
when the chance shall come, ofif with her at the saddle- 
bow.” 

“Ay, but, Lawless, beyond doubt she is now in Sir 
Daniel’s own mansion,” answered Dick. 

“ Thither, then, go we,” replied the outlaw. 

Dick stared at him. 

“Nay, I mean it,” nodded Lawless. “And if y’ are of 
BO little faith, and stumble at a word, see here ! ” 

And the outlaw, taking a key from about his neck, opened 
the oak chest, and dipping and groping deep among its 
contents, produced first a friar’s robe, and next a girdle 
of rope ; and then a huge rosary of wood, heavy enough 
to be counted as a weapon. 

“ Here,” he said, “ is for you. On with them ! ” 

And then, when Dick had clothed himself in this cleri- 
cal disguise. Lawless produced some colours and a pencil, 
and proceeded, with the greatest cunning, to disguise his 
face. The eyebrows he thickened and produced ; to the 
Bvoustache, which was yet hardly visible, he rendered a 


THE DEN. 


197 


like service ; while, by a few lines around the eye, he 
changed the expression and increased the apparent age of 
this young monk. 

“Now,” he resumed, “when I have done the like, we 
shall make as bonny a pair of friars as the eye could wish. 
Boldly to Sir Daniel’s we shall go, and there be hospitably 
welcome for the love of Mother Church.” 

“And how, dear Lawless,” cried the lad, “shall I repay 
you?” 

“ Tut, brother,” replied the outlaw, “ I do naught but 
for my pleasure. Mind not for me. I am one, by the mass, 
that mindeth for himself. When that I lack, I have a 
long tongue and a voice like the monastery bell — I do ask, 
my son ; and where asking faileth, I do most usually 
take.” 

The old rogue made a humorous grimace ; and although 
Dick was displeased to lie under so great favours to so 
equivocal a personage, he was yet unable to restrain his 
mirth. 

With that. Lawless returned to the big chest, and was 
soon similarly disguised ; but, below his gown, Dick won- 
dered to observe him conceal a sheaf of black arrows. 

“ Wherefore do ye that? ” asked the lad. “ Wherefore 
arrows, when ye take no bow ? ” 

“ Nay,” replied Lawless, lightly, “ ’tis like there will be 
heads broke — not to say backs — ere you and I win sound 
from where we’re going to ; and if any fall, I would our 
fellowship should come by the credit on’t. A black arrow, 


198 


THE BLACK AKKOW. 


Master Dick, is the seal of our abbey ; it showeth you who 
writ the bill.” 

“ An ye prepare so carefully,” said Dick, “ I have here 
some papers that, for mine own sake, and the interest of 
those that trusted me, were better left behind than found 
upon my body. Where shall I conceal them, Will?” 

" Nay,” replied Lawless, “ I will go forth into the wood 
and whistle me three verses of a song ; meanwhile, do you 
bury them where ye please, and smooth the sand upon 
the place.” 

“Never ! ” cried Richard. “I trust you, man. I were 
base indeed if I not trusted you.” 

“ Brother, y’ are but a child,” replied the old outlaw, paus- 
ing and turning his face upon Dick from the threshold of the 
den. “ I am a kind old Christian, and no traitor to men’s 
blood, and no sparer of mine own in a friend’s jeopardy. 
But, fool, child, I am a thief by trade and birth and habit. 
If my bottle were empty and my mouth dry, I w’ould rob 
you, dear child, as sure as I love, honour, and admire your 
parts and person ! Can it be clearer spoken? No.” 

And he stumped forth through the bushes with a snap 
of his big fingers. 

Dick, thus left alone, after a wondering thought upon 
the inconsistencies of his companion’s character, hastily 
produced, reviewed, and buried his papers. One only he 
reserved to carry along with him, since it in nowise com- 
promised his friends, and yet might serve him, in a pinch, 
against Sir Daniel. ’That was the knight’s own letter to 


THE DEN. 


J99 


Lord Wensleydftle, sent by Throgmorton, on the morrow 
of the defeat at Risingham, and found ne^it day by Dick 
upon the body of the messenger. 

Then, treading down the embers of the fire, Dick left 
the den, and rejoined the old outlaw, who stood awaiting 
him under the leafless oaks, and was already beginning to 
be powdered by the falling snow. Each looked upon the 
other, and each laughed, so thorough and so droll was the 
disguise. 

“ Yet I would it were but summer and a clear day,” 
grumbled the outlaw, “ that I might see myself in the 
min’or of a pool. There be many of Sir Daniel’s men 
that know me ; and if we fell to be recognized, there 
might be two words for you, brother-, but as for me, in a 
paternoster while, I should be kicking in a rope’s-end.” 

Thus they set forth together along the road to Shoreby, 
which, in this part of its course, kept near along the mar- 
gin of the forest, coming forth, from time to time, in the 
open country, and passing beside poor folks’ houses and 
small farms. 

Presently at sight of one of these. Lawless pulled up. 

“Brother Martin,” he said, in a voice capitally dis- 
guised, and suited to his monkish robe, “ let us enter and 
seek alms from these poor sinners. Pax vobiscum ! Ay,” 
he added, in his own voice, “ ’tis as I feared ; I have some- 
what lost the whine of it ; and by your leave, good Master 
Shelton, ye must suffer me to practise in these country 
places, before that I risk my fat neck by entering Sir Dan- 


200 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


iel’a But look ye a little, what an excellent thing it is to 
be a Jack-of-all-trades ! An I had not been a shipman, 
ye had infallibly gone down in the Good Hope ; an 1 
had not been a thief, I could not have painted me your 
face ; and but that I had been a Grey Friar, and sung 
loud in the choir, and ate hearty at the board, I could not 
have carried this disguise, but the very dogs would have 
spied us out and barked at us for shams.” 

He was by this time close to the window of the farm, 
and he rose on his tip>toes and peeped in. 

“ Nay,” he cried, “ better and better. We shall here 
tiy our false faces with a vengeance, and have a merry 
jest on Brother Capper to boot.” 

And so saying, he opened the door and led the way into 
the house. 

Thi-ee of their own company sat at the table, greedily 
eating. Their daggers, stuck beside them in the board, 
and the black and menacing looks which they continued 
to shower upon the people of the house, proved that they 
owed their entertainment rather to force than favour. 
On the two monks, who now, with a sort of humble dig- 
nity, entered the kitchen of the farm, they seemed to turn 
with a particular resentment ; and one — it was John Cap- 
per in person — who seemed to play the leading part, in- 
stantly and rudely ordered them away. 

“ We want no beggars here ! ” he cried. 

But another — although he was as far from recognizing 
Dick and Lawless — inclined to more moderate counsels. 


THE DEN. 


201 


**Not so,” he cried. “We be strong men, and take; 
these be weak, and crave ; but in the latter end these shall 
be uppermost and we below. Mind him not, my father ; 
but come, drink of my cup, and give me a benediction.” 

“Y’ are men of a light mind, carnal, and accursed,** 
said the monk. “ Now, may the saints forbid that ever 1 
should drink with such companions ! But here, for the 
pity I bear to sinners, here I do leave you a blessed relic, 
the which, for your soul’s interest, I bid you kiss and 
cherish.” 

So far Lawless thundered upon them like a preaching 
friar ; but with these words he drew from under his robe 
a black arrow, tossed it on the board in front of the three 
startled outlaws, turned in the same instant, and, taking 
Dick along with him, was out of the room and out of sight 
among the falling snow before they had time to utter a 
word or move a finger. 

“So,” he said, “we have proved our false faces. Master 
Shelton. I will now adventure my poor carcase where ye 
please.” 

“ Good ! ” returned Kichard. “ It irks me to be doing. 
Set we on for Shoreby ! ” 


202 


THE BLACK AKROW. 


CHAPTER n. 

**IN MINE enemies’ HOUSE.” 

Sir Daniel’s residence in Shoreby was a tall, commodi- 
ous, plastered mansion, framed in carven oak, and covered 
by a low-pitched roof of thatch. To the back there 
stretched a garden, full of fruit-trees, alleys, and thick 
arbours, and overlooked from the far end by the tower of 
the abbey church. 

The house might contain, upon a pinch, the retinue of 
a greater person than Sir Daniel ; but even now it was 
filled with hubbub. The court rang with arms and horse- 
shoe-iron ; the kitchens roared with cookery like a bees’- 
hive ; minstrels, and the players of instruments, and the 
cries of tumblers, sounded from the hall. Sir Daniel, in 
his profusion, in the gaiety and gallantry of his establish- 
ment, rivalled with Lord Shoreby, and eclipsed Lord Eis- 
ingham. 

All guests were made welcome. Minstrels, tumblers, 
players of chess, the sellers of relics, medicines, perfumes, 
and enchantments, and along with these every sort of 
priest, friar, or pilgrim, were made welcome to the lower 
table, and slept together in the ample lofts, or on the 
bare boards of the long dining-hall. 

On the afternoon following the wreck of the Good Hope, 
the buttery, the kitchens, the stables, the covered cartshed 


“IN MINE enemies’ HOUSE.” 


203 


that surrounded two sides of the coui-t, were all crowded 
by idle people, partly belonging to Sir Daniel’s establish- 
ment, and attired in his livery of murrey and blue, partly 
nondescript strangers attracted to the town by greed, and 
received by the knight through policy, and because it was 
the fashion of the time. 

The snow, which still fell without interruption, the ex- 
treme chill of the air, and the approach of night, combined 
to keep them under shelter. Wine, ale, and money were 
all plentiful ; many sprawled gambling in the straw of the 
barn, many were still drunken from the noontide meal. 
To the eye of a modern it would have looked like the sack 
of a city ; to the eye of a contemporary it was like any 
other rich and noble household at a festive season. 

Two monks — a young and an old — had arrived late, and 
were now warming themselves at a bonfire in a comer of 
the shed. A mixed crowd surrounded them — jugglers, 
mountebanks, and soldiers ; and with these the elder of 
the two had soon engaged so brisk a conversation, and ex- 
changed so many loud guffaws and country witticisms, that 
the group momentarily increased in number. 

The younger companion, in whom the reader has already 
recognized Dick Shelton, sat from the first somewhat back- 
ward, and gradually drew himself away. He listened, in- 
deed, closely, but he opened not his mouth ; and by the 
grave expression of his countenance, he made but little 
account of his companion’s pleasantries. 

At last his eye, which travelled continually to and fro, 


204 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


and kept a guard upon all the entrances of the house, lit 
upon a little procession entering by the main gate and 
crossing the coui't in an oblique direction. Two ladies, 
muffled in thick furs, led the way, and were followed by a 
pair of waiting-women and four stout men-at-arms. The 
next moment they had disappeared within the house ; and 
Dick, slipping through the crowd of loiterers in the shed, 
was already giving hot pursuit. 

“ The taller of these twain was Lady Brackley,” he 
thought ; “ and where Lady Brackley is, Joan will not be 
far.” 

At the door oi the house the four men-at-arms had ceased 
to follow, and the ladies were now mounting the stairway 
of polished oak, imder no better escort than that of the 
two waiting- women. Dick followed close behind. It was 
already the dusk of the day ; and in the house the darkness 
of the night had almost come. On the stair-landings, 
torches flailed in iron holders ; down the long, tapestried 
corridors, a lamp burned by every door. And where the 
door stood open, Dick could look in upon arras-covered 
walls and rush-bescattered floors, glowing in the light of 
the wood fires. 

Two floors were passed, and at every landing the younger 
and shorter of the two ladies had looked back keenly at 
the monk. He, keeping his eyes lowered, and affecting 
the demure manners that suited his disguise, had but seen 
her once, and was unaware that he had attracted her at- 
tention. And now, on the third floor, the pai’ty separated. 


“m MINE enemies’ house.” 20.5 

! 

the younger lady continuing to ascend alone, the other, 
followed by the waiting-maids, descending the corridor to 
the right. 

Dick mounted with a swift foot, and holding to the cor- 
ner, thrust forth his head and followed the three women 
with his eyes. Without turning or looking behind them, 
they continued to descend the comdor. 

“It is right well,” thought Dick. “ Let me but know 
my Lady Brackley’s chamber, and it will go hard an I find 
not Dame Hatch upon an errand.” 

And just then a hand was laid upon his shoulder, and, 
with a bound and a choked cry, he turned to grapple his 
assailant 

He was somewhat abashed to find, in the person whom 
he had so roughly seized, the short young lady in the furs. 
She, on her part, was shocked and terrified beyond ex- 
pression, and hung trembling in his grasp. 

“ Madam,” said Dick, releasing her, “I cry you a thou- 
sand pardons ; but I have no eyes behind, and, by the mass, 
I could not tell ye were a maid.” 

The girl continued to look at him, but, by this time, 
terror began to be succeeded by surprise, and surprise by 
suspicion. Dick, who could read these changes on her 
face, became alarmed for his own safety in that hostile 
house. 

“Fair maid,” he said, aflecting easiness, “suffer me to 
kiss your hand, in token ye forgive my roughness, and I 
will even go.” 


206 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


“ Y’ are strange monk, young sir,” returned the young 
lady, looking him both boldly and shrewdly in the face ; 
•' and now that my first astonishment hath somewhat 
oassed away, I can spy the layman in each word you utter. 
What do ye here ? Why ai’e ye thus sacreligiously tricked 
out ? Come ye in peace or war ? And why spy ye after 
Lady Brackley like a thief ? ” 

“Madam,” quoth Dick, “ of one thing I pray you to be 
very sure : I am no thief. And even if I come here in war, 
as in some degree I do, I make no war upon fair maids, 
and I hereby entreat them to copy me so far, and to leave 
me be. For, indeed, fair mistress, cry out — if such be 
your pleasure — cry but once, and say what ye have seen, 
and the poor gentleman before you is merely a dead man. 
i cannot think ye would be cruel,” added Dick ; and tak- 
ing the girl’s hand gently in both of his, he looked at her 
with courteous admiration. 

“ Are ye, then, a spy — a Yorkist ? ” asked the maid. 

“ Madam,” he replied, “ I am indeed a Yorkist, and, in 
some sort, a spy. But that which bringeth me into this 
house, the same which will win for me the pity and inter- 
est of your kind heart, is neither of York nor Lancaster. I 
will wholly put my life in your discretion. I am a lover, 
and my name- ” 

But here the young lady clapped her hand suddenly 
upon Dick’s mouth, looked hastily up and down and east 
and west, and, seeing the coast clear, began to drag the 
young man, with great strength and vehemence, up-stairs. 


MINE enemies' HOUSE.” 207 

“ Hush ! ” she said, “ and come ! ’Shalt talk hereafter." 

Somewhat bewildered, Dick suffered himself to be 
pulled up-stairs, bustled along a corridor, and thrust 
suddenly into a chamber, lit, like so many of the others, 
by a blazing log upon the hearth. 

“ Now,” said the young lady, forcing him down upon a 
stool, “ sit ye there and attend my sovereign good pleas- 
ure. I have life and death over you, and I will not scruple 
to abuse my power. Look to yourself; y’ ’ave cruelly 
mauled my arm. He knew not I was a maid, quoth he ! 
Had he known I was a maid, he had ta’en his belt to me, 
forsooth ! ” 

And with these words, she whipped out of the room 
and left Dick gaping with wonder, and not very sure if he 
were dreaming or awake. 

“Ta’en my belt to her ! ” he repeated. “Ta’en my belt 
to her I ” And the recollection of that evening in the for- 
est flowed back upon his mind, and he once more saw 
Matcham’s wincing body and beseeching eyes. 

And then he was recalled to the dangers of the present. 
In the next room he heard a stir, as of a person moving ; 
then followed a sigh, which sounded strangely near ; and 
then the rustle of skirts and tap of feet once more began. 
As he stood hearkening, he saw the arras wave along the 
wall ; there was the sound of a door being opened, the 
hangings divided, and, lamp in hand, Joanna Sedley 
entered the apartment. 

She was attired in costly stuffs of deep and warm oolouxa, 


208 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


such 843 befit the winter and the snow. Upon her head, 
her hair had been gathered together and became her as a 
crown. And she, who had seemed so little and so awk- 
ward in the attire of Matcham, was now tall like a young 
willow, and swam across the floor as though she scorned 
the drudgery of walking. 

Without a start, without a tremor, she raised her lamp 
and looked at the young monk. 

“What make ye here, good brother?” she inquired. 
“ Ye are doubtless ill-directed. Whom do ye require ? ” 
And she set her lamp upon the bracket. 

“Joanna,” said Dick; and then his voice failed him. 
“Joanna,” he began again, “ye said ye loved me ; and the 
more fool I, but I believed it ! ” 

“Dick ! ” she cried. “ Dick ! ” 

^ And then, to the wonder of the lad, this beautiful and 
tall young lady made but one step of it, and threw her 
arms about his neck and gave him a hundred kisses all in 
one. 

“ Oh, the fool fellow ! ” she cried. “ Oh, dear Dick ! 
Oh, if ye could see yourself ! Alack ! ” she added, pausing, 
“ I have spoilt you, Dick ! I have knocked some of the 
paint off. But that can be mended. Wliat cannot be 
mended, Dick — or I much fear it cannot ! — is my marriage 
with Lord Shoreby.” 

“ Is it decided, then ? ” asked the lad. 

“To-morrow, before noon, Dick, in the abbey church," 
she answered, “ John Matcham and Joanna Sedley both 


*‘m MINE enemies’ house.” 


209 


shall come to a right miserable end. There is no help in 
tears, or I could weep mine eyes out. I have not spared 
myself to pray, but Heaven frowns on my petition. And, 
dear Dick — good Dick — but that ye can get me forth of 
this house before the morning, we must even kiss and say 
good-bye.*’ 

“ Nay,” said Dick, “not I ; I will never say that word. 
’Tis like despair; but while there’s life, Joanna, there is 
hope. Yet will I hope. Ay, by the mass, and triumph ! 
Look ye, now, when ye were but a name to me, did I not 
follow — did I not rouse good men — did I not stake my life 
upon the quarrel? And now that I have seen you for 
what ye are — the fairest maid and stateliest of England — 
hink ye I would turn? — if the deep sea were there, I 
would straight through it ; if the way were full of lions, I 
would scatter them like mice.” 

“Ay,” she said, dryly, “ye make a great ado about a 
sky-blue robe ! ” 

“Nay, Joan,” protested Dick, “’tis not alone the robe. 
But, lass, ye were disguised. Here am I disguised ; and, 
to the proof, do I not cut a figure of fun — a right fool’s 
figuie?” 

“ Ay, Dick, an’ that ye do ! ” she answered, smiling. 

“Well, then !” he returned, .triumphant. “So was it 
with you, poor Matcham, in the forest. In sooth, ye were 
a wench to laugh at. But now ! ” 

So they ran on, holding each other by both hands, ex- 
changing smiles and lovely looks, and melting minutes into 
14 


210 


THE BLACK AKROW. 


seconds ; and so they might have continued all night long. 
But presently there was a noise behind them ; and they 
were aware of the short young lady, with her finger on 
her lips. 

“ Saints ! ” she cried, “ but what a noise ye keep ! Can 
ye not speak in compass ? And now, Joanna, my fair maid 
of the woods, what will ye give your gossip for bringing 
you your sweetheart ? ” 

Joanna ran to her, by way of answer, and embraced her 
fierily. 

“And you, sir,” added the young lady, “what do ye 
give me ? ” 

“ Madam,” said Dick, “ I would fain offer to pay you in 
the same money.” 

“Come, then,” said the lady, “it is permitted you.” 

But Dick, blushing like a peony, only kissed her hand. 

“ What ails ye at my face, fair sir ? ” she inquired, curt- 
seying to the very' ground ; and then, when Dick had at 
length and most tepidly embraced her, “Joanna,” she 
added, “your sweetheart is very backward under your 
eyes ; but I warrant you, when first we met, he was more 
ready. I am all black and blue, wench ; trust me never, 
if I be not black and blue ! And now,” she continued, 
“ have ye said your sayings ? for I must speedily dismiss 
the paladin.” 

But at this they both cried out that they bad said noth- 
ing, that the night was still very young, and that *hey 
would not be separated so early. 


“ IN MINK enemies’ HOUSE.” 


211 


“And supper?” asked the young lady. “Must we not 
go down to sujjper?” 

“ Nay, to be sure ! ” cried Joan. “ I had forgotten.” 

“Hide me, then,” said Dick, “ put me behind the arras, 
shut me in a chest, or what ye will, so that I may be here 
on your return. Indeed, fair lady,” he added, “bear this 
in mind, that we are sore bested, and may never look 
upon each other’s face from this night forward till we 
die.” 

At this the young lady melted ; and when, a little after, 
the bell summoned Sir Daniel’s household to the board, 
Dick was planted very stiffly against the wall, at a place 
where a division in the tapestry permitted him to breathe 
the more freely, and even to see into the room. 

He had not been long in this position, when he was 
somewhat strangely disturbed. The silence, in that upper 
storey of the house, was only broken by the flickering of 
the flames and the hissing of a green log in the chimney ; 
but presently, to Dick’s strained hearing, there came the 
sound of some one walking with extreme precaution ; and 
soon after the door opened, and a little black-faced, 
dwarfish fellow, in Lord Shoreby’s colours, pushed first his 
head, and then his crooked body, into the chamber. His 
mouth was open, as though to hear the better ; and his 
eyes, which were very bright, flitted restlessly and swiftly 
to and fro. He went round and round the room, striking 
here and there upon the hangings ; but Dick, by a miracle, 
escaped his notice. Then he looked below the furniture. 


212 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


and examined the lamp ; and, at last, with an air of cruel 
disappointment, was preparing to go away as silently aa 
he had come, when down he dropped upon his knees, 
picked up something from among the rushes on the floor, 
examined it, and, with every signal of delight, concealed 
it in the wallet at his belt. 

Dick’s heart sank, for the object in question was a tassel 
from his own girdle ; and it was plain to him that this 
dwarfish spy, who took a malign delight in his employment, 
would lose no time in bearing it to his master, the baron. 
He was half-tempted to throw aside the ai-ras, fall upon 
the scoundrel, and, at the risk of his life, remove the tell- 
tale token. And while he was still hesitating, a new cause 
of concern was added. A voice, hoarse and broken by 
drink, began to be audible from the stair ; and presently 
after, uneven, wandering, and heavy footsteps sounded 
without along the passage. 

“ What make ye here, my merry men, among the green- 
• wood shaws ? ” sang the voice. “ What make ye here ? 
Hey ! sots, what make ye here ? ” it added, with a rattle of 
drunken laughter ; and then, once more breaking into 
song: 

If ye should drink the clary wine, 

Fat Friar John, ye friend o’ mine — 

If I should eat, and ye should drink, 

Who shall sing the mass, d’ye think ? ** 

Lawless, alas ! rolling drunk, was wandering the house, 
•eeking for a corner wherein to slumber off the effect of 


“in mine enemies’ house.” 


213 


his potations. Dick inwardly raged. The spy, at first 
terrified, had grown reassured as he found he had to deal 
with an intoxicated man, and now, with a movement of 
cat-like rapidity, slipped from the chamber, and was gone 
from Kichard’s eyes. 

What was to be done ? If he lost touch of Lawless for 
the night, he was left impotent, whether to plan or carry 
forth Joanna’s rescue. If, on the other hand, he dared to 
address the drunken outlaw, the spy might still be linger- 
ing within sight, and the most fatal consequences ensue. 

It was, nevertheless, upon this last hazard that Dick 
decided. Slipping from behind the tapestry, he stood 
ready in the doorway of the chamber, with a warning hand 
upraised. Lawless, flushed crimson, with his eyes injected, 
vacillating on his feet, drew still unsteadily nearer. At 
last he hazily caught sight of his commander, and, in de- 
spite of Dick’s imperious signals, hailed him instantly and 
loudly by his name. 

Dick leaped upon and shook the drunkard furiously. 

“ Beast !” he hissed — “ beast and no man ! It is worse 
than treachery to be so witless. We may all be shent for 
thy sotting.” 

But Lawless only laughed and staggered, and tried to 
clap young Shelton on the back. 

And just then Dick’s quick ear caught a rapid brushing 
in the arras. He leaped towards the sound, and the next 
moment a piece of the wall-hanging had been torn down, 
and Dick and the spy were sprawling together in its folds 


214 


THE BLACK AEEOW. 


"I 


Over and over they rolled, grappling for each other’s 
throat, and still baffled by the arras, and still silent in 
their deadly fuiy. But Dick was by much the stronger, 
and soon the spy lay prostrate under his knee, and, 
a single stroke of the long poniard, ceased to breathe. 


CHAPTER m. 

THE DEAD SPY. 

Throughout this furious and rapid passage. Lawless had 
looked on helplessly, and even when all was over, and 
Dick, already re-arisen to his feet, was listening with the 
most passionate attention to the distant bustle in the lower 
storeys of the house, the old outlaw was still wavering on 
his legs like a shrub in a breeze of wind, and still stupidly 
staring on the face of the dead man. 

“ It is well,” said Dick, at length ; “ they have not 
heard us, praise the saints ! But, now, what shall I do 
with this poor spy ? At least, I will take my tassel from 
his wallet.” 

So saying, Dick opened the wallet ; within he found a 
few pieces of money, the tassel, and a letter addressed to 
Lord Wensleydale, and sealed with my Lord Shoreby’a 
seal. The name awoke Dick’s recollection ; and he in- 
stantly broke the wax and read the contents of the letter. 
It was short, but, to Dick’s delight, it gave evident proof 


I 


THE DEAD BPY. 


215 


that Lord Shoreby was treacherously corresponding with 
the House of York. 

The young fellow usually carried his ink-horn and im- 
plements about him, and so now, bending a knee beside 
the body of the dead spy, he was able to write these words 
upon a corner of the paper : 

Mj Lord of Shoreby, ye that writt the letter, wot ye why your 
man is ded ? But let me rede you, marry not. 

Jon Amend-all. 

He laid this paper on the breast of the corpse ; and 
then Lawless, who had been looking on upon these last 
manoeuvres with some flickering returns of intelligence, 
suddenly drew a black arrow from below his robe, and 
therewith pinned the paper in its place. The sight of 
this disrespect, or, as it almost seemed, cruelty to the 
dead, drew a cry of horror from young Shelton ; but the 
old outlaw only laughed. 

“Nay, I will have the credit for mine order,” he hic- 
cupped. “ My jolly boys must have the credit on’t — the 
credit, brother ; ” and then, shutting his eyes tight and 
opening his mouth like a precentor, he began to thunder, 
in a formidable voice ; 

“ If ye should drink the clary wine ” — 

“ Peace, sot ! ” cried Dick, and thrust him hard against 
the wall “In two words — if so be that such a man can 


216 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


understand me who hath more wine than wit in him — in 
two words, and, a-Mary’s name, begone out of this house, 
where, if ye continue to abide, ye will not only hang your- 
self, but me also ! Faith, then, up foot ! be yare, or, bj 
the mass, I may forget that I am in some sort your cap- 
tain and in some your debtor i Go ! ” 

The sham monk was now, in some degree, recovering 
the use of his intelligence ; and the ring in Dick’s voice, 
and the glitter in Dick’s eye, stamped home the meaning 
of his words. 

“ By the mass,” cried Lawless, “ an I be not wanted, 
I can go ; ” and he turned tipsily along the corridor and 
proceeded to flounder down-stairs, lurching against the 
wall. 

So soon as he was out of sight, Dick returned to his 
hiding-place, resqj^itely fixed to see the matter out. Wis- 
dom, indeed, moved him to be gone ; but love and curi- 
osity were stronger. 

Time passed slowly for the young man, bolt upright be- 
hind the arras. The fire in the room began to die down, 
and the lamp to burn low and to smoke. And still there 
was no -word of the return of any one to these upper quar 
ters of the house ; still the faint hum and clatter of th«» 
supper party sounded from far below ; and still, under the 
thick fall of the snow, Shoreby town lay silent upon every 
side. 

At length, however, feet and voices began to draw near 
upon the stair ; and presently after several of Sir Dauiel’p 


THE DEAD SPY. 


217 


guests arrired upon the landing, and, turning down the 
corridor, beheld the tom arras and the body of the 

spy- 

Some ran forward and some back, and all together be- 
gan to cry aloud. 

At the sound of their cries, guests, men-at-arms, ladies, 
servants, and, in a word, all the inhabitants of that great 
house, came flying from every direction, and began to join 
their voices to the tumult 

Soon a way was cleared, and Sir Daniel came forth in 
person, followed by the bridegroom of the morrow, my 
Lord Shoreby. 

“ My lord,” said Sir Daniel, “ have I not told you of this 
knave Black Arrow ? To the proof, behold it ! There it 
stands, and, by the rood, my gossip, in a man of yours, or 
one that stole your colours ! ” 

“ In good sooth, it was a man of mine,” replied Lord 
Shoreby, hanging back. “I would I had more such. He 
was keen as a beagle and secret as a mole.” 

“Ay, gossip, truly ?” asked Sir Daniel, keenly. “And 
what came he smelling up so many stairs in my poor man- 
sion ? But he will smell no more.” 

“ An ’t please you. Sir Daniel,” said one, “ here is a 
paper written upon with some matter, pinned upon his 
breast.” 

“ Give it me, arrow and all,” said the knight. And when 
he had taken into his hand the shaft, he continued for some 
time to gaze upon it in a sullen musing. “ Ay,” he said, 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


addressing Lord Shoreby, “ here is a hate that followeth 
iiard and close upon my heels. This black stick, or its 
just likeness, shall yet bring me down. And, gossip, suffer 
a plain knight to counsel you ; and if these hounds begin 
to wind you, flee ! 'Tis like a sickness — it still hangeth, 
hangeth upon the limbs. But let us see what they have 
written. It is as I thought, my lord ; y’ are marked^ like 
an old oak, by the woodman ; to-morrow or next day, by 
will come the axe. But what wrote ye in a letter ? ” 

Lord Shoreby snatched the paper from the arrow, read 
it, crumpled it between his hands, and, overcoming the re- 
luctance which had hitherto withheld him from approach- 
ing, threw himself on his knees beside the body and 
eagerly groped in the wallet. 

He rose to his feet with a somewhat unsettled counte- 
nance. 

“ Gossip,” he said, “I have indeed lost a letter here that 
much imported ; and could I lay my hand upon the knave 
that took it, he should incontinently grace a halter. But 
let us, first of all, secure the issues of the house. Here is 
enough harm already, by St. George ! ” 

Sentinels were posted close around the house and gar- 
den ; a sentinel on every landing of the stair, a whole troop 
in the main entrance-hall ; and yet another about the bon- 
fire in the shed. Sir Daniel’s followers were supplemented 
by Lord Shore by’s ; there was thus no lack of men or wea- 
pons to make the house secure, or to entrap a lurking 
enemy, should one be there. 


THE DEAD SPY. 


219 


Meanwhile, the body of the spy was carried out through 
the falling snow and deposited in the abbey church. 

It was not until these dispositions had been taken, and 
all had returned to a decorous silence, that the two girls 
drew Kichard Shelton from his place of concealment, and 
made a full report to him of what had passed. He, upon 
his side, recounted the visit of the spy, his dangerous die- 
covery, and speedy end. 

Joanna leaned back very faint against the curtained 
wall. 

“It will avail but little,” she said. “ I shall be wed to- 
morrow, in the morning, after all ! ” 

“ What ! ” cried her friend, “ And here is our paladin 
that driveth lions like mice ! Ye have little faith, of a 
surety. But come, fj-iend lion-driver, give us some com- 
fort ; speak, and let us hear bold counsels.” 

Dick was confounded to be thus outfaced with his own 
exaggerated words ; but though he coloured, he still spoke 
stoutly. 

“ Truly,” said he, “ we are in straits. Yet, could I but 
win out of this house for half an hour, I do honestly tell 
myself that all might still go well ; and for the marriage, 
it should be prevented.” 

“ And for the Uons,” mimicked the girl, “ they shall be 
driven.” 

“I crave your excuse,” said Dick. “I speak not now 
in any boasting humour, but rather as one inquiring after 
help or counsel ; for if I get not forth of this house and 


220 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


through these sentinels, I can do less than naught. Take 
me, I pray you, rightly.” 

“ Why said ye he was rustic, Joan ? ” the girl inquired. 
“I warrant he hath a tongue in his head ; ready, soft, 
and bold is his speech at pleasure. What would ye 
more ? ” 

“ Nay,” sighed Joanna, wdth a smile, “ they have changed 
me my friend Dick, ’tis sure enough. When I beheld him, 
he was rough indeed. But it matters little ; there is no 
help for my hard case, and I must still be Lady Shoreby ! ” 

“ Nay, then,” said Dick, “ I will even make the adven- 
ture. A friar is not much regarded ; and if I found a good 
fairy to lead me up, I may find another belike to carry me 
down. How call they the name of this spy ? ” 

“Rutter,” said the young lady ; “and an excellent good 
name to call him by. But how mean ye, lion-driver? 
What is in your mind to do ? ” 

“To offer boldly to go forth,” returned Dick ; “ and if 
any stop me, to keep an unchanged countenance, and say 
I go to pray for Rutter. They will be praying over his 
poor clay even now.” 

“ The device is somewhat simple,” replied the girl, “ yet 
it may hold.” 

“ Nay,” said young Shelton, “ it is no device, but mere 
boldness, which serveth often better in great straits.” 

“ Ye say true,” she said. “ Well, go, a-Mary’s name, 
and may Heaven speed you ! Ye leave here a poor maid 
that loves you entirely, and another that is most heartily 


THE DEAD SPY. 


221 


your friend. Be waxy, for their sakes, and make not ship- 
wreck of your safety.” 

“Ay,” added Joanna, “go, Dick. Ye run no more 
peril, whether ye go or stay. Go ; ye take my heart with 
you ; the saints defend you ! ” 

Dick passed the first sentry with so assured a counten- 
ance that the fellow merely fidgeted and stared ; but at 
the second landing the man earned his spear across and 
bade him name his business. 

“ Pax vobiscum” answered Dick. “I go to pray over 
the body of this poor Rutter.” 

“Like enough,” returned the sentry ; “but to go alone 
is not permitted you.” He leaned over the oaken balus- 
ters and whistled shrill. “ One cometh ! ” he cried ; and 
then motioned Dick to pass. 

At the foot of the stair he found the guard afoot and 
awaiting his arrival ; and when he had once more repeated 
his story, the commander of the post ordered four men 
out to accompany him to the church. 

“Let him not slip, my lads,” he said. “Bring him to 
Sir Oliver, on your lives ! ” 

The door was then opened ; one of the men took Dick 
by either arm, another marched ahead with a link, and 
the fourth, with bent bow and the arrow on the string, 
brought up the rear. In this order they proceeded through 
the garden, under the thick darkness of the night and the 
scattering snow, and drew near to the dimly-iUuminated 
windows of the abbey church. 


m 


THE BLACK ABROW. 


At the ■western portal a picket of archers stood, taking 
what shelter they could find in the hollow of the arched 
doorways, and all powdered -with the snow ; and it was not 
until Dick’s conductors had exchanged a woi-d with these, 
that they were suffered to pass forth and enter the nave 
of the sacred edifice. 

The church was doubtfully lighted by the tapei's upon 
the great altar, and by a lamp or two that swung from the 
arched roof before the private chapels of illustrious fami- 
lies. In the midst of the choir the dead spy lay, his limbs 
piously composed, upon a bier. 

A hurried mutter of prayer sounded along the arches ; 
cowled figures knelt in the stalls of the choir, and on the 
Steps of the high altar a priest in pontifical vestments cel- 
ebrated mass. 

Upon this fresh entrance, one of the cowled figures 
arose, and, coming down the steps which elevated the 
level of the choir above that of the nave, demanded from 
the leader of the four men what business brought him to 
the church. Out of respect for the service and the dead, 
they spoke in guarded tones ; but the echoes of that huge, 
empty building caught np their words, and hollowly re- 
peated and repeated them along the aisles^ 

** A monk ! ” returned Sir Oliver (for he it was), when 
he had heard the report of the archer. “ My brother, I 
looked not for your coming,” he added, turning to young 
Shelton. “ In all civility, who are ye ? and at whose in* 
stance do ye join your supplications to ours ? ” 


THE DEAD SPY. 


923 


Dick, keeping his cowl about his face, signed to Sir 
Oliver to move a pace or two aside from the archers ; and, 
so soon as the priest had done so, I cannot hope to de- 
ceive you, sir,” he said. “ My life is in your hands.” 

Sir Oliver violently started ; his stout cheeks grew pale, 
and for a space he was silent. 

“Richard,” he said, “what brings you here, I know 
not ; but I much misdoubt it to be evil. Nevertheless, 
for the kindness that was, I would not willingly deliver 
you to harm. Ye shall sit all night beside me in the 
stalls : ye shall sit there till my Lord of Shoreby be mar- 
ried, and the party gone safe home ; and if all goeth well, 
and ye have planned no hvil, in the end ye shall go whither 
ye will But if your purpose be bloody, it shall return 
upon your head. Amen ! ” 

And the priest devoutly crossed himself, and turned and 
louted to the altar. 

With that, he spoke a few words more to the soldiers, 
and taking Dick by the hand, led him up to the choir, 
and placed him in the stall beside his own, where, for 
mere decency, the lad had instantly to kneel and appear 
to be busy with his devotions. 

His mind and his eyes, however, were continually wan- 
dering. Three of the soldiers, he observed, instead of re- 
turning to the house, had got them quietly into a point 
of vantage in the aisle ; and he could not doubt that they 
had done so by Sir Oliver’s command. Here, then, he was 
trapped. Here he must spend the night in the ghostly 


' 224 : 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


glimmer and shadow of the church, and looking on the 
pale face of him he slew ; and here, in the morning, he 
must see his sweetheart married to another man before 
his eyes. 

But, for all that, he obtained a command upon his mind, 
and built himself up in patience to await the issue. 


CHAPTER IV. 

IN THE ABBEY CHURCH. 

In Shoreby Abbey Church tho prayers were kept up all 
night without cessation, now with the singing of psalms, 
now with a note or two upon the bell. 

Rutter, the spy, was nobly waked. There he lay, mean- 
while, as they had arranged him, his dead hands crossed 
upon his bosom, his dead eyes staring on the roof ; and 
hard by, in the stall, the lad who had slain him waited, in 
sore disquietude, the coming of the morning. 

Once only, in the course of the hours. Sir Oliver leaned 
across to his captive. 

“ Richard,” he whispered, “ my son, if ye mean me evil, 
I will certify, on my soul’s welfare, ye design upon an in- 
nocent man. Sinful in the eye of Heaven I do declare 
myself ; but sinful as against you I am not, neither have 
been ever.” 

“ My father,” returned Dick, in the same tone of voice. 


IN THE ABBEY CHURCH. 


225 


trust me, I design nothing ; but as for your innocence. 
I may not forget that ye cleared yourself but lamely.” 

“ A man may be innocently guilty,” replied the priest. 
He may be set blindfolded upon a mission, ignorant of 
its true scope. So it was with me. I did decoy your fa- 
ther to his death ; but as Heaven sees us in this sacred 
place, I knew not what I did.” 

“ It may be,” returned Dick. “ But see what a strange 
web ye have woven, that I should be, at this hour, at once 
your prisoner and your judge ; that ye should both threat- 
en my days and deprecate my anger. Methinks, if ye had 
been all your life a true man and good priest, ye w’ould 
neither thus fear nor thus detest me. And now to your 
prayers. I do obey you, since needs must ; but I will not 
be burthened with your company.” 

The priest uttered a sigh so heavy that it had almost 
touched the lad into some sentiment of pity, and he bowed 
his head upon his hands like a man borne down below a 
weight of care. He joined no longer in the psalms ; but 
Dick could hear the beads rattle through his fingers and 
the prayers a-pattering between his teeth. 

Yet a little, and the grey of the morning began to 
struggle through the painted casements of the church, and 
to put to shame the glimmer of the tapers. The light 
slowly broadened and brightened, and presently through 
the south-eastern clerestories a flush of rosy sunlight 
flickered on the walls. The storm was over ; the great 
clouds had disburdened their snow and fled farther on, 
15 


226 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


and the new day was breaking on a merry winter land* 
scape sheathed in white. 

A bustle of church officers followed ; the bier was car* 
ried forth to the deadhouse, and the stains of blood were 
cleansed from off the tiles, that no such ill-omened spec- 
tacle should disgrace the marriage of Lord Shoreby. At 
the same time, the very ecclesiastics who had been so 
dismally engaged all night began to put on morning faces, 
to do honour to the merrier ceremony which was about 
to follow. And further to announce the coming of the 
day, the pious of the town began to assemble and fall to 
prayer before their favourite shrines, or wait their turn at 
the confessionals. 

Favoured by this stir, it was of course easily possible for 
any man to avoid the vigilance of Sir Daniel’s sentries at 
the door ; and presently Dick, looking about him wearily, 
caught the eye of no less a person than Will Lawless, still 
in his monk’s habit. 

The outlaw, at the same moment, recognized his leader, 
and privily signed to him with hand and eye. 

Now, Dick was far from having forgiven the old rogue 
his most untimely drunkenness, but he had no desire to 
involve him in his own predicament ; and he signalled 
back to him, as plain as he was able, to begone. 

Lawless, as though he had understood, disappeared at 
once behind a pillar, and Dick breathed again. 

What, then, was his dismay to feel himself plucked by 
the sleeve and to find the old robber installed beside him, 


IN THE ABBEY CHTJKCH. 


227 


Upon the next seat, and, to all appearance, plunged in his 
devotions ! 

Instantly Sir Oliver arose from his place, and, gliding 
behind the stalls, made for the soldiers in the aisle. If 
the priest’s suspicions had been so lightly wakened, the 
harm was already done, and Lawless a prisoner in the 
church. 

“ Move not,” whispered Dick, “We are in the plagui- 
est pass, thanks, before all things, to thy swinishness of 
yestereven. When ye saw me here, so strangely seated 
where I have neither right nor interest, what a mur- 
rain ! could ye not smell harm and get ye gone from 
evil?” 

“Nay,” returned Lawless, “I thought ye had heard 
from Ellis, and were here on duty.” 

“ Ellis ! ” echoed Dick. “ Is Ellis, then, returned ? “ 

“ For sure,” replied the outlaw. “ He came last night, 
and belted me sore for being in wine — so there ye are 
avenged, my master. A furious man is EUis Duckworth ! 
He hath ridden me hot-spur from Craven to prevent this 
marriage ; and. Master Dick, ye know the way of him-^ 
do so he will ! ” 

“Nay, then,” returned Dick, with composure, “you and 
I, my poor brother, are dead men ; for I sit here a pris- 
oner upon suspicion, and my neck was to answer for this 
very maniage that he purposeth to mar. I had a fair 
choice, by the rood ! to lose my sweetheart or else lose 
my life ! Well, the cast is thrown — it is to be my life.* 


228 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


“By the mass,” cried Lawless, half arising, “I aro 
gone ! ” 

But Dick had his hand at once upon his shoulder. 

“ Friend Lawless, sit ye still,” he said. “ An ye have 
eyes, look yonder at the corner by the chancel ai’ch ; see 
ye not that, even upon the motion of your rising, you 
anned men are up and ready to intercept you ? Yield ye, 
friend. Ye were bold aboard ship, when ye thought to 
die a sea-death ; be bold again, now that y’ ai’e to die 
presently upon the gallows.” 

“Master Dick,” gasped Lawless, “ the thing hath come 
upon me somewhat of the suddenest. But give me a 
moment till I fetch my breath again ; and, by the mass, I 
will be as stout-hearted as yourself.” 

“ Here is my bold fellow ! ” returned Dick. “ And 
yet, Lawless, it goes hard against the grain with me to 
die ; but where whining mendeth nothing, wherefore 
whine ? ” 

“ Nay, that indeed ! ” chimed Lawless. “ And a fig for 
death, at worst I It has to be done, my master, soon or 
late. And hanging in a good quarrel is an easy death, 
they say, though I could never hear of any that came back 
to say so.” 

And so saying, the stout old rascal leaned back in his 
stall, folded his arms, and began to look about him with 
the greatest air of insolence and unconcern. 

“And for the matter of that,” Dick added, “it is yet 
our best chance to keep quiet. We wot not yet what 


IN THE ABBEY CHURCH. 


229 


Duckworth purposes ; find when all is said, and if the 
worst befall, we may yet clear our feet of it.” 

Now that they ceased talking, they were aware of a very 
distant and thin strain of mirthful music which steadily 
drew nearer, louder, and merrier. The bells in the tower 
began to break forth into a doubling peal, and a greater 
and greater concourse of people to crowd into the church, 
shuffling the snow from off their feet, and clapping and 
blowing in their hands. The western door was flung wide 
open, showing a glimpse of sunlit, snowy street, and ad- 
mitting in a great gust the shrewd air of the morning ; 
and in short, it became plain by every sign that Lord 
Shoreby desired to be married very early in the day, and 
that the wedding-train was drawing near. 

Some of Lord Shoreby’s men now cleared a passage 
down the middle aisle, forcing the people back with lance- 
stocks ; and just then, outside the portal, the secular mu- 
sicians could be descried drawing near over the frozen 
snow, the fifers and trumpeters scarlet in the face with 
lusty blowing, the drummers and the cymbalists beating 
as for a wager. 

These, as they drew near the door of the sacred build- 
ing, filed oft’ on either side, and, marking time to their own 
vigorous music, stood stamping in the snow. As they 
thus opened their ranks, the leaders of this noble bridal 
train appeared behind and between them ; and such was 
the variety and gaiety of their attire, such the display of 
silks and velvet, fur and satin, embroidery and lace, that 


230 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


the procession showed forth upon the snow like a flowe^ 
bed in a path or a painted window in a wall. 

First came the bride, a sorry sight, as pale as winter, 
clinging to Sir Daniel’s arm, and attended, as bridesmaid, 
by the short young lady who had befriended Dick the 
night before. Close behind, in the most radiant toilet, 
followed the bridegroom, halting on a gouty foot ; and as 
he passed the threshold of the sacred building and doffed 
his hat, his bald head was seen to be rosy with emo- 
tion. \ 

And now came the hour of Ellis Duckworth. 

Dick, who sat stunned among contrary emotions, grasp- 
ing the desk in front of him, beheld a movement in the 
crowd, people jostling backward, and eyes and arms up- 
lifted. Following these signs, he beheld three or four men 
with bent bows leaning from the clerestory gallery. At 
the same instant they delivered their discharge, and be- 
fore the clamour and cries of the astounded populace had 
time to swell fully upon the ear, they had flitted from 
their perch and disappeared. 

The nave was full of swaying heads and voices scream- 
ing ; the ecclesiastics thronged in terror from their places ; 
the music ceased, and though the bells overhead continued 
for some seconds to clang upon the air, some wind of the 
disaster seemed to find its way at last even to the chamber 
where the ringers were leaping on their ropes, and they 
also desisted from their merry labours. 

Bight in the midst of the nave the bridegroom lay stone* 


IN THE ABBEY CHURCH. 


231 


dead, pierced by two black arrows. The bride had fainted. 
Sir Daniel stood, towering above the crowd in his surprise 
and anger, a clothyard shaft quivering in his left forearm, 
and his face streaming blood from another which had 
grazed his brow. 

Long before any search could be made for them, the 
authors of this tragic interruption had clattered down a 
turnpike stair and decamped by a postern door. 

But Dick and Lawless still remained in pawn ; they had, 
indeed, arisen on the first alarm, and pushed manfully to 
gain the door ; but what with the narrowness of the stalls 
and the crowding of terrified priests and choristers, the 
attempt had been in vain, and they had stoically resumed 
their places. 

And now, pale with horror, Sir Oliver rose to his feet 
and called upon Sir Daniel, pointing with one hand to 
Dick. 

“Here," he cried, “is Richard Shelton — alas the hour ! 
—blood guilty ! Seize him ! — bid him be seized ! For 
all oru: lives’ sakes, take him and bind him surely ! He hath 
sworn our fall.” 

Sir Daniel was blinded by anger — blinded by the hot 
blood that still streamed across his face. 

“Where?” he bellowed. “Hale him forth! By the 
cross of Holy wood, but he shall rue this hour ! ” 

The crowd fell back, and a party of archers invaded the 
choir, laid rough hands on Dick, dragged him head fore-, 
most from the stall, and thrust him by the shoulders down 


232 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


t 


the chancel steps. Lawless, on his part, sat as still as a 
mouse. 

Sir Daniel, brushing the blood out of his eyes, stared 
blinkingly upon his captive. 

“ Ay,” he said, “ treacherous and insolent, I have the« 
fast ; and by all potent oaths, for every drop of blood that 
now trickles in mine eyes, I will wring a groan out of thy 
carcase. Away with him ! ” he added. “ Here is no place ! 
Off with him to my house. I will number every joint of 
thy body with a torture.” 

But Dick, putting off his captors, uplifted his voice. 

“ Sanctuary ! ” he shouted. “ Sanctuary ! Ho, there, 
my fathers ! They would drag me from the church ! ” 

“ From the church thou hast defiled with murder, boy,” 
added a tall man, magnificently dressed. 

“ On what probation ? ” cried Dick. “ They do accuse 
me, indeed, of some complicity, but have not proved one 
tittle. I was, in truth, a suitor for this damsel’s hand ; and 
she, I will be bold to say it, repaid my suit with favor. 
But what then ? To love a maid is no offence, I trow — 
nay, nor to gain her love. In all else, I stand here free 
from guiltiness.” 

There was a murmur of approval among the bystanders, 
so boldly Dick declared his innocence ; but at the same 
time a throng of accusers arose upon the other side, cry- 
ing how he had been found last night in Sir Daniel’s house, 
how he wore a sacrilegious disguise ; and in the midst of 
ihe babel, Sir Oliver indicated Lawless, both by voice and 


IN THE ABBEY CHUBCH. 


233 


gesture, as accomplice to the fact. He, in his turn, was 
dragged from his seat and set beside his leader. The 
feelings of the crowd rose high on either side, and while 
some dragged the prisoners to and fro to favor their es- 
cape, others cursed and struck them with their fists. 
Dick’s ears rang and his brain swam dizzily, like a man 
struggling in the eddies of a furious river. 

But the tall man who had already answered Dick, by a 
prodigious exercise of voice restored silence and order in 
the mob. 

“Search them,” he said, “for arms. We may so judge 
of their intentions.” 

Upon Dick they found no weapon but his poniard, and 
this told in his favour, until one man officiously drew it 
from its sheath, and found it still uncleansed of the blood 
of Rutter. At this there was a great shout among Sir 
Daniel’s followers, which the tall man suppressed by a 
gesture and an imperious glance. But when it came to 
the turn of Lawless, there was found under his gown a ' 
sheaf of arrows identical with those that had been shot. 

“ How say ye now ? ” asked the tall man, frowningly, of 
Dick. 

“ Sir,” replied Dick, “ I am here in sanctuary, is it not 
so ? Well, sir, I see by your bearing that ye are high in 
station, and I read in your countenance the marks of ph 
ety and justice. To you, then, I will yield me prisoner, 
and that blithely, foregoing the advantage of this holy 
place. But rather than to be yielded into the discretion 


234 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


of that man — whom I do here accuse with a loud voice to 
be the murderer of my natural father and the unjust de- 
tainer of my lands and revenues — rather than that, I would 
beseech you, under favour, with your own gentle hand, to 
despatch me on the spot. Your own ears have heard him, 
how before that I was proven guilty he did threaten me 
with torments. It standeth not with your own honour to 
deliver me to my sworn enemy and old oppressor, but to 
try me fairly by the way of law, and, if that I be guilty in- 
deed, to slay me mercifully.” 

“My lord,” cried Sir Daniel, “ye will not hearken to 
this wolf? His bloody dagger reeks him the lie into his 
face.” 

“ Nay, but suffer me, good knight,” returned the tall 
stranger; “your own vehemence doth somewhat tell 
against yourself.” 

And here the bride, who had come to herself some min- 
utes past and looked wildly on upon this scene, broke loose 
from those that held her, and fell upon her knees before 
the last speaker. 

“My Lord of Risingham,” she cried, “hear me, in jus- 
tice. I am here in this man’s custody by mere force, reft 
from mine own people. Since that day I had never pity, 
countenance, nor comfort from the face of man — but from 
him only — Richard Shelton — whom they now accuse and 
labour to undo. My lord, if he was yesternight in Sir 
Daniel’s mansion, it was I that brought him there ; he 
came but at my prayer, and thought to do no hurt While 


IN THE ABBEY CHURCH. 


235 


yet Sir Daniel was a good lord to him, he fought with 
them of the Black Arrow loyally ; but when his foul guard- 
ian sought his life by practices, and he fled by night, for 
his soul’s sake, out of that bloody house, whither was he 
to turn — he, helpless and penniless ? Or if he be fallen 
among iU company, whom should ye blame — the lad that 
was unjustly handled, or the guardian that did abuse his 
trust?” 

And then the short young lady fell on her knees by 
Joanna’s side, 

“ And I, my good lord and natural uncle,” she added, 
“ I can bear testimony, on my conscience and before the 
face of all, that what this maiden saith is true. It was 1, 
unworthy, that did lead the young man in.” 

Earl Risingham had heard in silence, and when the 
voices ceased, he still stood silent for a space. Then he 
gave Joanna his hand to arise, though it was to be ob- 
served that he did not offer the like courtesy to her who 
had called herself his niece. 

“Sir Daniel,” he said, “here is a right intricate affair, 
the which, with your good leave, it shall be mine to ex- 
amine and adjust. Content ye, then ; your business is in 
careful hands ; justice shall be done you ; and in the 
meanwhile, get ye incontinently home, and have your 
hurts attended. The air is shrewd, and I would not ye 
took cold upon these scratches.” 

He made a sign with his hand ; it was passed down the 
nave by obsequious servants, who waited there upon his 


236 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


smallest gesture. Instantly, without the church, a tucket 
sounded shrill, and through the open portal archers and 
men-at-arms, uniformly arrayed in the colours and wear- 
ing the badge of Lord Risingham, began to file into the 
church, took Dick and Lawless from those who still de- 
tained them, and, closing their files about the prisoners, 
marched forth again and disappeared. 

As they were passing, Joanna held both her hands to 
Dick and cried him her farewell; and the bridesmaid, 
nothing downcast by her uncle’s evident displeasure, blew 
him a kiss, with a “ Keep your heari up, lion-driver ! ” that 
for the fii*st time since the accident called up a smile to 
the faces of the crowd. 


CHAPTER V. 

EARL RISINGHAM. 

Earl Risingham, although by far the most important 
person then in Shoreby, was poorly lodged in the house 
of a private gentleman upon the extreme outskirts of the 
town. Nothing but the armed men at the doors, and the 
mounted messengers that kept arriving and departing, an- 
nounced the temporary residence of a great lord. 

Thus it was that, from lack of space, Dick and Lawless 
were clapped into the same apartment. 

“Well spoken, Master Richard,” said the outlaw ; “it 


EARL RISINGHAM, 


23 ? 


was excellently well spoken, and, for my part, I thank yon 
cordially. Here we are in good hands ; we shall be justly 
tried, and, some time this evening, decently hanged on the 
same tree.” 

“Indeed, my poor friend, I do believe it,” answered 
Dick. 

“Yet have we a string to our bow,” returned Lawless. 
“ Ellis Duckworth is a man out of ten thousand ; he hold- 
eth you right near his heart, both for your own and for 
your father’s sake ; and knowing you guiltless of this fact, 
he will stir earth and heaven to bear you clear.” 

“It may not be,” said Dick. “What can he do? He 
hath but a handful. Alack, if it were but to-morrow — 
could I but keep a certain tryst an hour before noon to- 
morrow — all were, I think, otherwise. But now there is 
no help.” 

“ Well,” concluded Lawless, “ an ye will stand to it for 
my innocence, I will stand to it for yours, and that stout- 
ly. It shall naught avail us ; but an I be to hang, it shall 
not be for lack of swearing.” 

And then, while Dick gave himself over to his reflec- 
tions, the old rogue curled himself down into a comer, 
pulled his monkish hood about his face, and composed 
himself to sleep. Soon he was loudly snoring, so utterly 
had his long life of hardship and adventure blunted the 
sense of apprehension. 

It was long after noon, and the day was already failing, 
•before the door was opened and Dick taken forth and led 


‘238 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


up-stairs to where, in a warm cabinet, Earl Risingham sat 
musing over the fire. 

On his captive’s entrance he looked up. 

“Sir,” he said, “I knew your father, who was a man of 
honour, and this inclineth me to be the more lenient ; but 
I may not hide from you that heavy charges lie against 
your character. Ye do consort with murderers and 
robbers ; upon a clear probation ye have carried war 
against the king’s peace ; ye are suspected to have pirati- 
cally seized uj)on a ship ; ye are found skulking with a 
counterfeit presentment in your enemy’s house ; a man is 
slain that very evening ” 

“An it like you, my lord,” Dick interposed, “ I will at 
once avow my guilt, such as it is. I slew this fellow Rut- 
ter ; and to the proof ” — searching in his bosom — “ here 
is a letter from his wallet.” 

Lord Risingham took the letter, and opened and read 
it twice. 

“ Ye have read this ? ” he inquired. 

“ I have read it,” answered Dick. 

“ Are ye for York or Lancaster ? ” the earl demanded. 

“ My lord, it was but a little while back that I was 
asked that question, and knew not how to answer it,” said 
Dick ; but having answered once, I will not vary. My 
lord, I am for York.” 

The earl nodded approvingly. 

“Honestly replied,” he said. “But wherefore, then, 
deliver me this letter ? ” 


EARL EISINGHAM. 


239 


** Nay, but against traitors, my lord, are not all sides 
arrayed ? ” cried Dick. 

“ I would they were, young gentleman,” returned the 
earl ; " and 1 do at least approve your saying. There is 
more youth than guile in you, I do perceive ; and were 
not Sir Daniel a mighty man upon Our side, I were half- 
tempted to espouse your quarrel. For I have inquired, 
and it appears ye have been hardly dealt with, and have 
much excuse. Bnt look ye, sir, I am, before all else, a 
leader in the queen’s interest ; and though by nature a 
just man, as I believe, and leaning even to the excess of 
mercy, yet must I order my goings for my party’s inter- 
est, and, to keep Sii* Daniel, I would go far about.” 

“My lord,” returned Dick, “ye will think me very 
bold to counsel you ; but do ye count upon Sir Daniel’s 
faith? Methought he had changed sides intolerably 
often.” 

“Nay, it is the way of England. What would ye 
have ? ” the earl demanded. “ But ye are unjust to the 
knight of Tunstall ; and as faith goes, in this unfaith- 
ful generation, he hath of late been honorably true to 
us of Lancaster. Even in our last reverses he stood 
firm.” 

“ An it pleased you, then,” said Dick, “ to cast your eye 
upon this letter, ye might somewhat change your thought 
of him ; ” and he handed to the earl Sir Daniel’s letter to 
Lord Wensleydale. 

The effect upon the earl’s countenance was instant ; he 


240 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


lowered like an angry lion, and his hand, with a sudden 
movement, clutched at Ins dagger. 

“ Ye have read this also ? ” he asked. 

“Even so,” said Dick. “It is your lordship’s own es- 
tate he offers to Lord Wensleydale ? ” 

“It is my own estate, even as ye say ! ” returned the 
earl. “ I am your bedesman for this letter. It hath 
shown me a fox’s hole. Command me. Master Shelton ; 
I will not be backward in gratitude, and to begin with, 
York or Lancaster, true man or thief, I do now set you at 
freedom. Go, a Mary’s name ! But judge it right that I 
retain and hang your fellow, Lawless. The crime hath 
been most open, and it were fitting that some open pun- 
ishment should follow.” 

“ My lord, I make it my first suit to you to spare him 
also,” pleaded Dick. 

“It is an old, condemned rogue, thief, and vagabond, 
Master Shelton,” said the earl. “ He hath been gallows- 
ripe this score of years. And, whether for one thing or 
another, whether to-morrow or the day after, where is the 
great choice ? ” 

“ Yet, my lord, it was through love to me that he came 
hither,” answered Dick, “ and I were churlish and thank- 
less to desert him.” 

“Master Slielton, ye are troublesome,” replied the earl, 
severely. “It is an evil way to prosper in this world. 
Howbeit, and to be quit of your importunity, I will once 
more humour you. Go, then, together ; but go warily, 


ARBLA8TER AGAIN. 


241 


£Wid get swiftly out of Shoreby town. For this Sir Dan- 
iel (whom may the saints confound !) thirsteth most greed- 
ily to have your blood.” 

“ My lord, I do now offer you in words my gratitude, 
trusting at some brief date to pay you some of it in ser- 
vice,” replied Dick, as he turned from the apartment. 


CHAPTER VL 

ARBLASTER AGAIN. 

When Dick and Lawless were suffered to steal, by a 
back way, out of the house where Lord Risingham held 
his garrison, the evening had already come. 

They paused in shelter of the garden wall to consult on 
their best course. The danger was extreme. If one of 
Sir Daniel’s men caught sight of them and raised the 
view-hallo, they would be run down and butchered in- 
stantly. And not only was the town of Shoreby a mere 
net of peril for their lives, but to make for the open coun- 
try was to run the risk of the patrols. 

A little way off, upon some open ground, they spied a 
windmill standing ; and hard by that, a very large gran- 
ary with open doors. 

“ How if we lay there until the night fall ? ” Dick pro 
posed. 


16 


242 


THE BLACK ABEOW. 


And Lawless having no better suggestion to offer, they 
made a straight push for the granary at a run, and con- 
cealed themselves behind the door among soma straw. 
The daylight rapidly departed ; and presen fjly the moon 
was silvering the frozen snow. Now or never was their 
opportunity to gain the Goat and Bagpipes unobserved 
and change their tell-tale garments. Yet even then it 
was advisable to go round by the outskirts, and not run 
the gauntlet of the market-place, where, in the concourse 
of people, they stood the more imminent peril to be 
recognized and slain. 

This course was a long one. It took them not far 
from the house by the beach, now lying dark and silent, 
and brought them forth at last by the margin of the har- 
bour. Many of the ships, as they could see by the clear 
moonshine, had weighed anchor, and, profiting by the 
calm sky, proceeded for more distant parts ; answerably to 
this, the rude alehouses along the beach (although in de- 
fiance of the curfew law, they still shone with fire and 
candle) were no longer thronged with customers, and no 
longer echoed to the chorus of sea-songs. 

Hastily, half-running, with their monkish raiment 
kilted to the knee, they plunged through the deep snow 
and threaded the labyrinth of mariue lumber ; and they 
were already more than half way round the harbour when, 
as they were passing close before an alehouse, the door 
suddenly opened and let out a gush of light upon their 
fleeting figures. 


ARBLASTER AGAIN. 


243 


Instantly they stopped, and made believe to be engaged 
in earnest conversation. 

Three men, one after another, came out of the alehouse, 
and the last closed the door behind him. All thi-ee were 
unsteady upon their feet, as if they had passed the day in 
deep potations, and they now stood wavering in the 
moonlight, like men who knew not what they would be 
after. The tallest of the three was talking in a loud, la- 
mentable voice. 

“Seven pieces of as good Gascony as ever a tapster 
broached,” he was saying, “ the best ship out o’ the port 
o’ Dartmouth, a Virgin Mary parcel-gilt, thirteen pounds 
of good gold money ” 

“ I have bad losses, too,” interrupted one of the others. 
“ I have had losses of mine own, gossip Arblaster. I was 
robbed at Martinmas of five shillings and a leather wallet 
well worth niuepence farthing.” 

Dick’s heart smote him at what he heard. Until that 
moment he had not perhaps thought twice of the poor 
skipper who had been ruined by the loss of the Good 
Hope ; so careless, in those days, were men who wore 
arms of the goods and interests of their inferiors. But 
this sudden encounter reminded him sharply of the high- 
handed manner and ill-ending of his enterprise ; and 
both he and Lawless turned their heads the other way, to 
avoid the chance of recognition. 

The ship’s dog had, however, made his escape from the 
wreck and found his way back again to Shoreby. Ho 


244 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


was now at Arblaster’s heels, and suddenly sniffing and 
pricking his ears, he darted forward and began to bark 
furiously at the two sham friars. 

His master unsteadily followed him. 

“Hey, shipmates ! ” he cried. “Have ye ever a penny 
piece for a poor old shipman, clean destroyed by pirates ? 
I am a man that would have paid for you both o’ Thursday 
morning ; and now here I be, o’ Saturday night, begging 
for a flagon of ale ! Ask my man Tom, if ye misdoubt 
me. Seven pieces of good Gascon wine, a ship that was 
mine own, and was my father’s before me, a Blessed Mary 
of plane-tree wood and parcel-gilt, and thirteen pounds in 
gold and silver. Hey ! what say ye ? A man that fought 
the French, too ; for I have fought the French ; I have 
cut more French throats upon the high seas than ever a 
man that sails out of Dartmouth. Come, a penny piece.” 

Neither Dick nor Lawless durst answer him a word, 
lest he should recognize their voices ; and they stood 
there as helpless as a ship ashore, not knowing where to 
turn nor what to hope. 

“Are ye dumb, boy?” inquired the skipper. “Mates.” 
he added, with a hiccup, “ they be dumb. I like not this 
manner of discourtesy ; for an a man be dumb, so be as 
he's courteous, he will still speak when he was spoken to, 
methinks.” 

By this time the sailor, Tom, who was a man of great 
personal strength, seemed to have conceived some sus- 
picion of these two speechless figures ; and being soberei 


ARBLASTER AGAIN. 


245 


than his captain, stepped suddenly before him, took Law- 
less roughly by the shoulder, and asked him, with an 
oath, what ailed him that he held his tongue. To this the 
outlaw, thinking all was over, made answer by a wrestling 
feint that stretched the sailor on the sand, and, calling 
upon Dick to follow him, took to his heels among the 
lumber. 

The affair passed in a second. Before Dick could run 
at all, Arblaster had him in his arms ; Tom, crawling on 
his face, had caught him by one foot, and the third man 
had a drawn cutlass brandishing above his head. 

It was not so much the danger, it was not so much the 
annoyance, that now bowed down the spirits of young 
Shelton ; it was the profound humiliation to have escaped 
Sir Daniel, convinced Lord Risingham, and now fall help- 
less in the hands of this old, drunken sailor ; and not 
merely helpless, but, as his conscience loudly told him 
when it was too late, actually guilty — actually the bank- 
rupt debtor of the man whose ship he had stolen and 
lost. 

“Bring me him back into the alehouse, till I see hia 
face,” said Arblaster. 

“ Nay, nay,” returned Tom ; “ but let us first unload 
his wallet, lest the other lads cry share.” 

But though he was searched from head to foot, not a 
penny was found upon him ; nothing but Lord Foxham’a 
signet, which they plucked savagely from his finger. 

‘ “Turn me him to the moon,” said the skipper; and 


246 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


takiug Dick by the chin, he cruelly jerked his head into 
the air. “Blessed Virgin! ” he cried, “ it is the pirate ! 

“ Hey ! ” cried Tom. 

“ By the Virgin of Bordeaux, it is the man himself ! ” 
repeated Arblaster. “What, sea-thief, do I hold you?” 
he cried. “Where is my ship? Where is my wine? 
Hey ! have I you in my hands ? Tom, give me one end 
of a cord here ; I will so truss me this sea-thief, hand and 
foot together, like a basting turkey — marry, I will so bind 
him up — and thereafter I will so beat — so beat him ! ” 

And so he ran on, winding the cord meanwhile about 
Dick’s limbs with the dexterity peculiar to seamen, and 
at every turn and cross securing it with a knot, and 
tightening the whole fabric with a savage pull. 

When he had done, the lad was a mere package in his 
hands — as helpless as the dead. The skipper held him at 
arm’s length, and laughed aloud. Then he fetched him a 
stunning buffet on the ear ; and then turned him about, 
and furiously kicked and kicked him. Anger rose up in 
Dick’s bosom like a storm ; anger strangled him, and he 
thought to have died ; but when the sailor, tired of this 
cruel play, dropped him all his length upon the sand and 
turned to consult with his companions, he instantly re- 
gained command of his temper. Here was a momentary 
respite ; ere they began again to torture him, he might 
have found some method to escape from this degi’ading and 
fatal misadventure. 

Presently, sure enough, and while his captors were still 


ARBLASTER AGAIN. 


247 


discussing what to do with him, he took heart of grace, 
and, with a pretty steady voice, addressed them. 

“ My masters,” he began, “ are ye gone clean foolish ? 
Here hath Heaven put into your hands as pretty an 
occasion to grow rich as ever shipman had— such as ye 
might make thirty over-sea adventures and not find again — 
and, by the mass ! what do ye ? Beat me ? — nay ; so 
would an angry child ! But for long-headed tarry-Johns, 
that fear not fire nor water, and that love gold as they love 
beef, methinks ye are not wise.” 

“ Ay,” said Tom, “now y’ are trussed ye would cozen 
us.” 

“ Cozen you ! ” repeated Dick. “ Nay, if ye be fools, it 
would be easy. But if ye be shrewd fellows, as I trow ye 
are, ye can see plainly where your interest lies. When I 
took your ship from you, we were many, we were well 
clad and armed ; but now, bethink you a little, who mus- 
tered that aiTay ? One incontestably that hath much gold. 
And if he, being already rich, continueth to hunt after 
more even in the face of storms — bethink you once more — • 
shall there not be a treasure somewhere hidden ?” 

“What meaneth he ?” asked one of the men. 

“ Why, if ye have lost an old skiff and a few jugs of 
vinegary wine,” continued Dick, “ forget them, for the 
trash they are ; and do ye rather buckle to an adventure 
worth the name, that shall, in twelve hours, make or mar 
you for ever. But take me up from where I lie, and let us 
go somewhere near at hand and talk across a flagon, for I 


248 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


am sore and frozen, and my mouth is half among tha 
snow.” 

“ He seeks but to cozen us,” said Tom, contemptuously. 

“Cozen! cozen!” cried the third man. “I would 1 
could see the man that could cozen me ! He were a co- 
zener indeed ! Nay, I was not born yesterday. I can see 
a church when it hath a steeple on it ; and for my part, 
gossip Ai-blaster, methinks there is some sense in this young 
man. Shall we go hear him, indeed ? Say, shall we go 
hear him ? ” 

“ I would look gladly on a pottle of strong ale, good 
Master Pirret,” returned Arblaster. “ How say ye, Tom ? 
But then the wallet is empty.” 

“ I will pay,” said the other — “I will pay. I would fain 
see this matter out ; I do believe, upon my conscience, 
there is gold in it.” 

“ Nay if ye get again to drinking, all is lost ! ” cried 
Tom. 

“Gossip Arblaster, ye sujBfer your fellow to have too 
much liberty,” returned Master Pirret. “Would ye be 
led by a hired man ? Fy, fy ! ” 

“ Peace, fellow ! ” said Arblaster, addressing Tom. 
“ Will ye put your oar in ? Truly a fine pass, when the 
crew is to correct the skipper ! ” 

“ Well, then, go your way,” said Tom ; “ I wash my 
hands of you.” 

“Set him, then, upon his feet,” said Master Pirrei “1 
know a privy place where we may drink and discourse.” 


ARBLASTER AGAIN. 


249 


“ If I am to walk, my friends, ye must set my feet at lib- 
erty,” said Dick, when he had been once more planted up- 
right like a post. 

“ He saith true,” laughed Pirret. “ Truly, he could not 
walk accoutred as he is. Give it a slit — out with your 
knife and slit it, gossip.” 

Even Arblaster paused at this proposal ; but as his 
companion continued to insist, and Dick had the sense to 
keep the merest wooden indiflference of expression, and 
only shrugged his shoulders over the delay, the skipper 
consented at last, and cut the cords which tied his pris- 
oner’s feet and legs. Not only did this enable Dick to 
walk ; but the whole network of his bonds being pro- 
portionately loosened, he felt the arm behind his back 
begin to move more freely, and could hope, with time 
and trouble, to entirely disengage it. So much he 
owed already to the owlish silliness and greed of Master 
Pirret. 

That worthy now assumed the lead, and conducted them 
to the very same rude alehouse where Lawless had taken 
Arblaster on the day of the gale. It was now quite de- 
serted ; the fire was a pile of red embers, radiating the 
most ardent heat ; and when they had chosen their places, 
and the landlord had set before them a measure of mulled 
ale, both Pirret and Arblaster stretched forth their legs 
and squared their elbows like men bent upon a pleasant 
hour. 

The table at which they sat, like all the others in the 


250 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


alehouse, consisted of a heavy, square board, set on a pail 
of barrels ; and each of the four curiously-assorted cronies 
sat at one side of the square, Pirret facing Arblaster, and 
Dick opposite to the common sailor. 

“ And now, young man,” said Pirret, “ to your tale. It 
doth appeal*, indeed, that ye have somewhat abused our 
gossip Arblaster ; but what then? Make it up to him — 
show him but this chance to become wealthy — and I will 
go pledge he will forgive you.” 

So far Dick had spoken pretty much at random ; but it 
was now necessary, under the supervision of six eyes, to 
invent and tell some marvellous story, and, if it were possi- 
ble, get back into his hands the all-important signet. To 
squander time was the first necessity. The longer his stay 
lasted, the more would his captors drink, and the surer 
should he be when he attempted his escape. 

Well, Dick was not much of an inventor, and what he 
told was pretty much the tale of Ali Baba, with Shoreby 
and Tunstall Forest substituted for the East, and the 
treasures of the cavern rather exaggerated than diminished. 
As the reader is aware, it is an excellent story, and has but 
one drawback — that it is not true ; and so, as these three 
simple shipmen now heard it for the first time, their eyes 
stood out of their faces, and their mouths gaped hke cod- 
fish at a fishmonger’s. 

Pretty soon a second measure of mulled ale was called 
for ; and while Dick was still artfully spinning out the inci- 
dents a third followed the second. 


ARBL ASTER AGAIN. 


251 


Here was the position of the parties towards the end: 

Arblaster, three-parts drunk and one-half asleep, hung 
helpless on his stool Even Tom had been much delighted 
with the tale, and his vigilance had abated in proportion. 
Meanwhile, Dick had gradually wormed Lis right arm 
clear of its bonds, and was ready to risk all. 

“ And so,” said Pirret, “ y’ are one of these ?” 

“ I was made so,” replied Dick, “ against my will ; but 
an I could but get a sack or two of gold coin to my share, 
I should be a fool indeed to continue dwelling in a filthy 
cave, and standing shot and buffet like a soldier. Here be 
we four ; good ! Let us, then, go forth into the forest to- 
mon-ow ere the sun be up. Could we come honestly by a 
donkey, it were better ; but an we cannot, we have our 
four strong backs, and I warrant me we shall come home 
staggering.” 

Pirret licked his lips. 

“And this magic,” he said — “this password, whereby 
the cave is opened — how call ye it, friend ? ” 

“ Nay, none know the word but the three chiefs,” re- 
turned Dick ; “ but here is your great good fortune, that, 
on this very evening, I should be the bearer of a spell to 
open it. It is a thing not trusted twice a year beyond the 
captain's wallet.” 

“ A spell ! ” said Arblaster, half awakening, and squint- 
ing upon Dick with one eye. “Aroint thee ! no spells ! I 
be a good Christian. Ask my man Tom, else.” 

“Nay, but this is white magic,” said Dick. “It doth 


252 


THE BLACK AREOW. 


naught with the devil ; only the powers of numbers, berb^ 
and planets.” 

“ Ay, ay,” said Pirret ; “ ’tis but white magic, gossip. 
There is no sin therein, I do assure you. But proceed, 
good youth. This spell — in what should it consist ? ” 

“ Nay, that I will incontinently show you,” answered 
Dick. “ Have ye there the ring ye took from my finger ? 
Good ! Now hold it forth before you by the extreme fin- 
ger-ends, at the arm’s length, and over against the shin- 
ing of these embers. ’Tis so exactly. Thus, then, is the 
spell.” 

With a haggard glance, Dick saw the coast was clear bC' 
tween him and the door. He put up an internal prayer. 
Then whipping forth his arm, he made but one snatch ol 
the ring, and at the same instant, levering up the table, he 
sent it bodily over upon the seaman Tom. He, poor soul, 
went down bawling under the ruins ; and before Arblastei 
understood that anything was wrong, or Pirret could col- 
lect his dazzled wits, Dick had run to the door and escaped 
into the moonlit night. 

The moon, which now rode in the mid-heavens, and the 
extreme whiteness of the snow, made the open ground 
about the harbour bright as day ; and young Shelton leap- 
ing, with kilted robe, among the lumber, was a conspicu- 
ous figure from afar. 

Tom and Pirret followed him with shouts ; from every 
drinking-shop they were joined by others whom their cries 
aroused ; and presently a whole fleet of sailors was in full 


ARBLA8TER AGAIN. 


253 


pursuit. But Jack ashore was a bad runner, even in the 
fifteenth century, and Dick, besides, had a start, which he 
rapidly improved, until, as he drew near the entrance of a 
narrow lane, he even paused and looked laughingly behind 
him. 

Upon the white floor of snow, all the shipmen of Shoreby 
came clustering in an inky mass, and tailing out rearward 
in isolated clumps. Every man was shouting or scream- 
ing ; every man was gesticulating with both arms in air ; 
some one was continually falling ; and to complete the 
picture, when one fell, a dozen would fall upon the top of 
him. 

The confused mass of sound which they roUed up as 
high as to the moon was partly comical and partly terrify- 
ing to the fugitive whom they were hunting. In itself, it 
was impot®nt, for he made sure no seaman in the port could 
run him down. But the mere volume of noise, in so far 
as it must awake all the sleepers in Shoreby and bring all 
the skulking sentries to the street, did really threaten him 
with danger in the front. So, spying a dark doorway at a 
comer, he whipped briskly into it, and let the uncouth 
hunt go by him, still shouting and gesticulating, and all 
red with huriy and white with tumbles in the snow. 

It was a long while, indeed, before this great invasion 
of the town by the harbour came to an end, and it was 
long before silence was restored. For long, lost sailors 
were still to be heard pounding and shouting through the 
streets in all directions and in every quarter of the town. 


254 


THE BLACK AKROW. 


Quarrels followed, sometimes among themselves, some* 
times with the men of the patrols ; knives were drawn, 
blows given and received, and more than one dead body 
remained behind upon the snow. 

When, a full hour later, the last seamen returned grum- 
blingly to the harbour side and his particular tavern, it may 
fairly be questioned if he had ever known what manner of 
man he was pursuing, but it was absolutely sure that he 
had now forgotten. By next morning there were many 
strange stories flying ; and a little while after, the legend 
of the devil’s nocturnal visit was an article of faith with all 
the lads of Shoreby. 

But the return of the last seaman did not, even yet, set 
free young Shelton from his cold imprisonment in the 
doorway. 

For some time after, there was a great activity of pa- 
trols ; and special parties came forth to make the round of 
the place and report to one or other of the great lords, 
whose slumbers had been thus unusually broken. 

The night was already well spent before Dick ventured 
from his hiding-place and came, safe and sound, but ach- 
ing with cold and bruises, to the door of the Goat and 
Bagpipes. As the law required, there was neither fire nor 
candle in the house ; but he groped his way into a corner 
of the icy guest-room, found an end of a blanket, which he 
hitched around his shoulders, and creeping close to the 
nearest sleeper, was soon lost in slumber. 


BOOK V.— CROOKBACK. 

CHAPTER L 

THE 8HBILL TRUMPET. 

Very early the next morning, before the first peep of the 
day, Dick arose, changed his garments, armed himself 
once more like a gentleman, and set forth for Lawless’s 
den in the forest. There, it will be remembered, be had 
left Lord Foxham’s papers ; and to get these and be back 
in time for the tryst with the young Duke of Gloucester 
could only be managed by an early start and the most 
vigorous walking. 

The frost was more rigorous than ever ; the air wind- 
less and dry, and stinging to the nostril. The moon had 
gone down, but the stars were still bright and numerous, 
and the reflection from the snow was clear and cheerful. 
There was no need for a lamp to walk by ; nor, in that 
still but ringing air, the least temptation to delay. 

Dick had crossed the greater part of the open ground 
between Shoreby and the forest, and had reached the 
bottom of the little hill, some hundred yards below the 
Cross of St. Bride, when, through the stillness of the 
black mom, there rang forth the note of a trumpet, so 


256 


THE BLACK AKROW. 


shrill, clear, and piercing, that he thought he had nerer 
heard the match of it for audibility. It was blown once, 
and then hurriedly a second time ; and then the clash of 
steel succeeded. 

At this young Shelton pricked his ears, and drawing 
his sword, ran forward up the hill. 

Presently he came in sight of the cross, and was aware 
of a most fierce encounter raging on the road before it. 
There were seven or eight assailants, and but one to keep 
head against them ; but so active and dexterous was this 
one, so desperately did he charge and scatter his oppo- 
nents, so deftly keep his footing on the ice, that already, 
before Dick could intervene, he had slain one, wounded 
another, and kept the whole in check. 

Still, it was by a miracle that he continued his defence, 
and at any moment, any accident, the least slip of foot or 
error of hand, his life would be a forfeit. 

“ Hold ye well, sir ! Here is help ! ” cried Eichard ; 
and forgetting that he was alone, and that the cry was 
somewhat irregular, “ To the Arrow ! to the Arrow ! ” he 
shouted, as he fell upon the rear of the assailants. 

These were stout fellows also, for they gave not an inch 
at this surprise, but faced about, and fell with astonishing 
fury upon Dick, Four against one, the steel flashed about 
him in the starlight ; the sparks flew fiercely ; one of the 
men opposed to him fell — in the stir of the fight he 
hardly knew why ; then he himself was struck across the 
head, and though the steel cap below his hood protected 


THE SHRILL TRUMPET. 


257 


him, the blow beat him down upon one knee, with a brain 
whirling like a windmill sail. 

Meanwhile the man whom he had come to rescue, in- 
stead of joining in the conflict, had, on the first sign of 
intervention, leaped aback and blown again, and yet more 
urgently and loudly, on that same shrill- voiced trumpet 
that began the alarm. Next moment, indeed, his foes 
were on him, and he was once more charging and fleeing, 
leaping, stabbing, dropping to his knee, and using indif- 
ferently sword and dagger, foot and hand, with the same 
unshaken courage and feverish energy and speed. 

But that ear-piercing summons had been heard at last. 
There was a muffled rushing in the snow ; and in a good 
hour for Dick, who saw the sword-points glitter already at 
his throat, there poured forth out of the wood upon both 
sides a disorderly torrent of mounted men-at-arms, each 
oased in iron, and with visor lowered, each bearing his 
lance in rest, or his sword bared and raised, and each 
carrying, so to speak, a passenger, in the shape of an 
archer or page, who leaped one after another from their 
perches, and had presently doubled the array. 

The original assailants, seeing themselves outnumbered 
and surrounded, threw down their arms without a word. 

“ Seize me these fellows ! ” said the hero of the trumpet; 
and when his order had been obeyed, he drew near tc 
Dick and looked him in the face. 

Dick, returning this scrutiny, was surprised to find in 
one who had displayed such strength, skill and energy, a 
17 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


ms 

lad no older than himself — slightly deformed, with one 
shoulder higher than the other, and of a pale, painful, 
and distorted countenance.* The eyes, however, were 
very clear and bold. 

“ Sir,” said this lad, “ ye came in good time for me, and 
none too early.” 

“My lord,” returned Dick, with a faint sense that he 
was in the presence of a great personage, “ ye are your- 
self so marvellous a good swordsman that I believe ye 
had managed them single-handed. Howbeit, it was cer- 
tainly well for me that your men delayed no longer than 
they did.” 

“ How knew ye who I was ? ” demanded the stranger. 

“ Even now, my lord,” Dick answered, “ I am ignorant 
of whom I speak with.” 

“ Is it so ? ” asked the other. “ And yet ye threw your- 
self head first into this unequal battle.” 

“I saw one man valiantly contending against many,” 
replied Dick, “ and I had thought myself dishonoured not 
to bear him aid.” 

A singular sneer played about the young nobleman’s 
mouth as he made answer : 

“ These are very brave words. But to the more essen- 
tial — are ye Lancaster or York ? ” 

“ My lord, I make no secret ; I am clear for York,* 
Dick answered. 

* Richard Crookback would have been really far younger at thil 
date. 


THE SHRILL TRUMPET. 


259 


” By the mass ! ” replied the other, “ it is well for you.” 

And so saying, he turned towards one of his followers. 

“Let me see,” he continued, in the same sneering and 
cruel tones — “let me see a clean end of these brave gen- 
tlemen. Truss me them up.” 

There were but five survivors of the attacking party. 
Archers seized them by the arms ; they were hurried to 
the borders of the wood, and each placed below a tree of 
suitable dimension ; the rope was adjusted ; an archer, 
cariying the end of it, hastily clambered overhead ; and 
before a minute was over, and without a word passing 
upon either hand, the five men were swinging by the 
neck. 

“And now,” cried the deformed leader, “back to your 
posts, and when I summon you next, be readier to at- 
tend.” 

“My lord duke,” said one man, “beseech you, tarry 
not here alone. Keep but a handful of lances at your 
hand.” 

“Fellow,” said the duke, “I have forborne to chide you 
for your slowness. Cross me not, therefore. I trust my 
hand and arm, for all that I be crooked. Ye were back- 
ward when the trumpet sounded ; and ye are now too for- 
ward with your counsels. But it is ever so ; last with the 
lance and first with tongue. Let it be reversed.” 

And with a gesture that was not without a sort of dan- 
gerous nobility, he waved them off. 

The footmen climbed again to their seats behind the 


260 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


men-&^arms, and the whole party moved slowly away and 
disappeared in twenty different directions, under the cover 
of the forest. 

The day was by this time beginning to break, and the 
stars to fade. The first grey glimmer of dawn shone upon 
the countenances of the two young men, who now turned 
once more to face each other. 

“Here,” said the duke, “ye have seen my vengeance, 
which is, like my blade, both sharp and read}". But I 
would not have you, for all Christendom, suppose me 
thankless. You that came to my aid with a good sword 
and a better courage — unless that ye recoil from my mis- 
shapenness — come to my heart.” 

And so saying, the young leader held out his arms for 
an embrace. 

In the bottom of his heart Dick already entertained a 
great terror and some hatred for the man whom he had 
rescued ; but the invitation was so worded that it would 
not have been merely discourteous, but cruel, to refuse or 
hesitate ; and he hastened to comply. 

“And now, my lord duke,” he said, when he had re- 
gained his freedom, “ do I suppose aright? Are ye my 
Lord Duke of Gloucester?” 

*‘I am Richard of Gloucester,” returned the other. 
“ And you — how call they you ? ” 

Dick told him his name, and presented Lord Foxham's 
«gnet, which the duke immediately recognized. 

“Ye come too soon,” he said ; “ but why should I com- 


THE SHRILL TRUMPET. 


261 


plain V Ye are like me, that was here at watch two hours 
before the day. But this is the first sally of mine arms ; 
upcR this adventure, Master Shelton, shall I make or mar 
the quality of my renown. There lie mine enemies, under 
two old, skilled captains — Risingham and Bi’ackley — well 
posted for strength, I do believe, but yet upon two sides 
without retreat, enclosed betwixt the sea, the harbour, and 
the river. Methinks, Shelton, here were a great blow to 
be stricken, an we could strike it silently and suddenly.” 

" I do think so, indeed,” cried Dick, wai-ming. 

"Have ye my .Lord Foxham’s notes?” inquired the 
duke. 

And then, Dick, having explained how he was without 
them for the moment, made himself bold to offer informa- 
tion every jot as good, of his own knowledge. 

" And for mine own part, my lord duke,” he added, “ an 
ye had men enough, I would fall on even at this present. 
For, look ye, at the peep of day the watches of the night 
are over ; but by day they keep neither watch nor ward — 
only scour the outskirts with horsemen. Now, then, when 
the night watch is already unarmed, and the rest are at 
their morning cup — now were the time to break them.” 

" How many do ye count ? ” asked Gloucester. 

"They number not two thousand,” Dick replied. 

"I have seven hundred in the woods behind us,” said 
tl» duke ; " seven hundred follow from Kettley, and will 
be here anon ; behind these, and further, are four hun- 
dred more ; and my Lord Foxham hath five hundred half 


262 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


a day from here, at Holywood. Shall we attend theit 
coming, or fall on ? ” 

“ My lord,” said Dick, “ when ye hanged these five poor 
rogues ye did decide the question. Churls although they 
were, in these uneasy times they will be lacked and looked 
for, and the alarm be given. Therefore, my lord, if ye do 
count upon the advantage of a surprise, ye have not, in 
my poor opinion, one whole hour in front of you.” 

“ I do think so indeed,” retiu-ned Crookback. “ Well, 
before an hour, ye shall be in the thick on’t, winning 
spurs. A swift man to Holywood, carrying Lord Fox- 
ham’s signet ; another along the road to speed my lag- 
gards ! Nay, Shelton, by the rood, it may be done ! ” 

Therewith he once more set his trumpet to his lips and 
blew. 

This time he was not long kept waiting. In a moment 
the open space about the cross was filled with horse and 
foot. Richard of Gloucester took his place upon the steps, 
and despatched messenger after messenger to hasten the 
concentration of the seven hundred men that lay hidden 
in the immediate neighbourhood among the woods ; and 
before a quarter of an hour had passed, all his dispositions 
being taken, he put himself at their head, and began to 
move down the hill towards Shoreby. 

His plan was simple. He was to seize a quarter of the 
town of Shoreby lying on the right hand of the high road, 
and make his position good there in the narrow lanes unit 
til his reinforcements followed. 


THE SHKILL TRUMPET. 


263 


If Lord Kisingham chose to retreat, Richard would foh 
low upon his rear, and take him between two fires ; or, if 
he preferred to hold the town, he would be shut in a trap, 
there to be gradually overwhelmed by force of numbers. 

There was but one danger, but that was imminent and 
great — Gloucester’s seven hundred might be rolled up and 
cut to pieces in the first encounter, and, to avoid this, it 
was needful to make the surprise of their arrival as com- 
plete as possible. 

The footmen, therefore, were all once more taken up 
behind the riders, and Dick had the signal honour meted 
out to him of mounting behind Gloucester himself. For 
as far as there was any cover the troops moved slowly, and 
when they came near the end of the trees that lined the 
highway, stopped to breathe and reconnoitre. 

The sun was now well up, shining with a frosty bright- 
ness out of a yellow halo, and right over against the 
luminary, Shoreby, a field of snowy roofs and ruddy 
gables, was rolling up its columns of morning smoke. 

Gloucester turned round to Dick. 

“ In that poor place,” he said, “ where people are cook- 
ing breakfast, either you shall gain your spurs and I be- 
gin a life of mighty honour and glory in the world’s eye, 
or both of us, as I conceive it, shall fall dead and be un- 
heard of. Two Richards are we. Well, then, Richard 
Shelton, they shall be heard about, these two ! Their 
swords shall not ring more loudly on men’s helmets than 
their names shall ring in people’s ears.” 


264 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


Dick was astonished at so great a hunger after fame^ 
expressed with so great vehemence of voice and language ; 
and he answered very sensibly and quietly, that, for his 
part, he promised he would do his duty, aud doubted not 
of victory if everyone did the like. 

By this time the horses were well breathed, and the 
leader holding up his sword and giving rein, the whole 
troop of chargers broke into the gallop and thundered, with 
their double load of fighting men, down the remainder of 
the hill and across the snow-covered plain that still divided 
them from Shoreby. 


CHAPTER IL 

THE BATTLE OF SHOREBY. 

The whole distance to be crossed was not above a 
quarter of a mile. But they had no sooner debouched be- 
yond the cover of the trees than they were aware of peo- 
ple fleeing and screaming in the snowy meadows upon 
either hand. Almost at the same moment a great rumour 
began to arise, and spread and grow continually louder in 
the town ; and they were not yet halfway to the nearest 
house before the bells began to ring backward from the 
steeple. 

The young duke ground his teeth together. By these 
BO early signals of alarm he feared to find his enemies pre- 


THE BATTLE OF SHOKEBY. 


265 


pared ; and if he failed to gain a footing in the town, he 
knew that his small party would soon be broken and ex* 
terminated in the open. 

In the town, however, the Lancastrians were far from 
being in so good a posture. It was as Dick had said. The 
night-guard had already doffed their harness ; the rest 
were still hanging — unlatched, unbraced, all vmprepared 
for battle — about their quarters ; and in the whole of 
Shoreby there were not, perhaps, fifty men full armed, or 
fifty chargers ready to be mounted. 

The beating of the bells, the terrifying summons of men 
who ran about the streets crying and beating upon the 
doors, aroused in an incredibly short space at least two 
score out of that half hundred. These got speedily to 
horse, and, the alarm still flying wild and contrary, gal- 
loped in different directions. 

Thus it befell that, when Kichard of Gloucester reached 
the first house of Shoreby, he was met in the mouth of the 
street by a mere handful of lances, whom he swept before 
his onset as the storm chases the bark. 

A hundred paces into the town, Dick Shelton touched 
the duke’s arm ; the duke, in answer, gathered his reins, 
put the shrill trumpet to his mouth, and blowing a con- 
certed point, turned to the right hand out of the direct 
advance. Swerving like a single I’ider, his whole com- 
mand turned after him, and, still at the full gallop of the 
chargers, swept up the narrow bye-street. Only the last 
score of riders drew rein and faced about in the entrance ; 


2C6 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


the footmen, whom they carried behind them, leapt at the 
same instant to the earth, and began, some to bend their 
bows, and others to break into and secure the houses 
upon either hand. 

Surprised at this sudden change of direction, and daunt- 
ed by the firm front of the rear-guard, the few Lancas- 
trians, after a momentary consultation, turned and rode 
farther into town to seek for i*einforcements. 

The quarter oi the town upon which, by the advice of 
Dick, Richard of Gloucester had now seized, consisted of 
five small streets of poor and ill-inhabited houses, occupy- 
ing a very gentle eminence, and lying open towards the 
back. 

The five streets being each sectu'ed by a good guard, 
the reserve would thus occupy the centre, out of shot, and 
yet ready to carry aid wherever it was needed. 

Such was the poorness of the neighbourhood that none 
of the Lancastrian lords, and but few of their retainers, 
had been lodged therein ; and the inhabitants, with one 
accord, deserted their houses and fled, squalling, along the 
streets or over garden walls. 

In the centre, where the five ways all met, a somewhat 
ill-favoured alehouse displayed the sign of the Chequers ; 
and here the Duke of Gloucester chose his headquarters 
for the day. 

To Dick he assigned the guard of one of the five streets. 

“Go,” he said, “win your spurs. Win glory for me' 
one Richard for another. I tell you, if I rise, ye shall rise 


THE BATTLE OF SHOKEBT. 267 

by the same ladder. Go,” he added, shaking him by the 
hand. 

But, as soon as Dick was gone, he turned to a little 
shabby archer at his elbow. 

“Go, Dutton, and that right speedily,” he added. 
“ Follow that lad. If ye find him faithful, ye answer for 
his safety, a head for a head. Woe unto you, if ye return 
without him ! But if he be faithless — or, for one instant, 
ye misdoubt him — stab him from behind.” 

In the meanwhile Dick hastened to secure his post. 
The street he had to guard was very nan-ow, and closely 
lined with houses, which projected and overhung the road- 
way ; but narrow and dark as it was, since it opened upon 
the market-place of the town, the main issue of the battle 
would probably fall to be decided on that spot. 

The market-place was full of townspeople fleeing in dis- 
order ; but there was as yet no sign of any foeman ready 
to attack, and Dick judged he had some time before him 
to make ready his defence. 

The two houses at the end stood deserted, with open 
doors, as the inhabitants had left them in their flight, and 
from these he had the furniture hastily tossed forth and 
piled into a barrier in the entry of the lane. A hundred 
men were placed at his disposal, and of these he threw the 
more part into the houses, where they might lie in shelter 
and deliver their arrows from the windows. With tlie 
rest, imder his own immediate eye, he lined the barricade. 

Meanwhile the utmost uproar and confusion had con- 


268 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


tinned to prevail throughout the town ; and what with 
the hurried clashing of bells, the sounding of trumpets, 
the swift movement of bodies of horse, the cries of the 
commanders, and the shrieks of women, the noise was al- 
most deafening to the ear. Presently, little by little, the 
tumult began to subside ; and soon after, files of men in 
armour and bodies of archers began to assemble and form 
in line of battle in the market-place. 

A large portion of this body were in murrey and blue, 
and in the mounted knight who ordered their array Dick 
recognized Sir Daniel Brackley. 

Then there befell a long pause, which was followed by 
the almost simultaneous sounding of four trumpets from 
four different quarters of the town. A fifth rang in an» 
swer from the market-place, and at the same moment the 
files began to move, and a shower of arrows rattled about 
the barricade, and sounded hke blows upon the walls of 
the two flanking houses. 

The attack had begun, by a common signal, on all the 
five issues of the quarter. Gloucester was beleaguered 
upon every side ; and Dick judged, if he would make good 
his post, he must rely entirely on the hundred men of hia 
command. 

Seven volleys of arrows followed one upon the other, 
and in the very thick of the discharges Dick was touched 
from behind upon the arm, and found a page holding out 
to him a leathern jack, strengthened with bright plates of 
mail 


THE BATTLE OF SHOKEBY. 


26 & 


“ It is from my Lord of Gloucester,” said the page. “ He 
hath observed, Sir Richard, that ye went unarmed.” 

Dick, with a glow at his heart at being so addressed, 
got to his feet and, with the assistance of the page, donned 
the defensive coat. Even as he did so, two arrows rat- 
tled haimlessly upon the plates, and a third struck down 
the page, mortally wounded, at his feet. 

Meantime the whole body of the enemy had been stead- 
ily drawing nearer across the market-place ; and by this 
time were so close at hand that Dick gave the order to re- 
turn their shot. Immediately, from behind the barrier and 
from the windows of the houses, a counterblast of arrows 
sped, cai’rying death. But the Lancastrians, as if they 
had but waited for a signal, shouted loudly in answer ; 
and began to close at a run upon the barrier, the horse- 
men still hanging back, with visors lowered. 

Then followed an obstinate and deadly struggle, hand 
to hand. The assailants, wielding their falchions with 
one hand, strove with the other to drag down the structure 
of the barricade. On the other side, the parts were re- 
versed ; and the defenders exposed themselves like mad- 
men to protect their rampart. So for some minutes the 
contest raged almost in silence, friend and foe falling one 
upon another. But it is always the easier to destroy ; and 
when a single note upon the tucket recalled the attacking 
party from this desperate service, much of the barricade 
had been removed piecemeal, and the whole fabric had 
sunk to half its height, and tottered to a general fall. 


270 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


And now the footmen in the market-place fell back, at 
a run, on every side. The horsemen, who had been 
standing in a line two deep, wheeled suddenl}^ and made 
their flank into their front ; and as swift as a striking 
adder, the long, steel-clad column was launched upon the 
ruinous barricade. 

Of the first two horsemen, one fell, rider and steed, 
and was ridden down by his companions. The second 
leaped clean upon the summit of the rampart, transpierc- 
ing an archer with his lance. Almost in the same in- 
stant he was dragged from the saddle and his horse de- 
spatched. 

And then the full weight and impetus of the charge 
burst upon and scattered the defenders. The men-at- 
arms, surmounting their fallen comrades, and carried 
onward by the fury of their onslaught, dashed through 
Dick’s broken line and poured thundering up the lane 
beyond, as a stream bestrides and pours across a broken 
dam. 

Yet was the fight not over. Still, in the narrow jaws of 
the entrance, Dick and a few survivors plied their bills 
like woodmen ; and already, across the width of the pas- 
sage, there had been formed a second, a higher, and a 
more effectual rampart of fallen men and disembowelled 
horses, lashing in the agonies of death. 

Baffled by this fresh obstacle, the remainder of the 
cavalry fell back ; and as, at the sight of this movement, 
the flight of arrows redoubled from the casements of the 


THE BATTLE OF SHOREBT. 


271 


houses, their retreat had, for a moment, almost degener- 
ated into flight. 

Almost at the same time, those who had crossed the 
barricade and charged farther up the street, being met 
before the door of the Chequers by the formidable hunch- 
back and the whole reserve of the Yorkists, began to come 
scattering backward, in the excess of disarray and terror. 

Dick and his fellows faced about, fresh men poured out 
of the houses ; a cruel blast of arrows met the fugitives 
full in the face, while Gloucester was already riding down 
their rear ; in the inside of a minute and a half there was 
no living Lancastrian in the street. 

Then, and not till then, did Dick hold up his reeking 
blade and give the word to cheer. 

Meanwhile Gloucester dismounted from his horse and 
came forward to inspect the post. His face was as pale 
as linen ; but his eyes shone in his head like some strange 
jewel, and his voice, when he spoke, was hoarse and 
broken with the exultation of battle and success. He 
looked at the rampart, which neither friend nor foe could 
now approach without precaution, so fiercely did the 
horses struggle in the throes of death, and at the sight of 
that great carnage he smiled upon one side. 

“ Despatch- these horses,” he said ; " they keep you 
from your vantage. Richard Shelton,” he added, “ye 
have pleased me. Kneel.” 

The Lancastrians had already resumed their archery, 
and the shafts fell thick in the mouth of the street ; but 


572 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


the duke, minding them not at all, deliberately drew his 
sword and dubbed Richard a knight upon the spot. 

“And now, Sir Richard,” he continued, “ if that ye see 
Lord Risingham, send me an express upon the instant. 
Were it your last man, let me hear of it incontinently. I 
had rather venture the post than lose my stroke at him. 
For mark me, all of ye,” he added, raising his voice, “ if 
Earl Risingham fall by another hand than mine, I shall 
count this victory a defeat.” 

“ My lord duke,” said one of his attendants, “ is your 
grace not weary of exposing his dear life unneedfully ? 
Why tarry we here ? ” 

“Catesby,” returned the duke, “here is the battle, not 
elsewhere. The rest are but feigned onslaughts. Here 
must we vanquish. And for the exposure — if ye were an 
ugly hunchback, and the children gecked at you upon the 
street, ye would count your body cheaper, and an hour of 
glory worth a life. Howbeit, if ye vnll, let us ride on and 
visit the other posts. Sir Richard here, my namesake, he 
shall still hold this entry, where he wadeth to the ankles 
in hot blood. Him can we trust. But mark it, Sir Rich- 
ard, ye are not yet done. The worst is yet to ward. 
Sleep not.” 

He came right up to young Shelton, looking him hard 
in the eyes, and taking his hand in both of his, gave it so 
extreme a squeeze that the blood had nearly spurted. 
Dick quailed before his eyes. The insane excitement, the 
comrage, and the cruelty that he read therein filled him 


THE BATTLE OF SHOREBY. 


273 


with dismay about the future. This young duke’s was in- 
deed a gallant spirit, to ride foremost in the ranks of war ; 
but after the battle, in the days of peace and in the circle 
of his trusted friends, that mind, it was to be dreaded, 
would continue to bring forth the fruits of death. 


CHAPTER nX 

THE BATTLE OF SHOREBY {concluded). 

Dick, once more left to his own counsels, began to look 
about him. The arrow-shot had somewhat slackened. On 
all sides the enemy were falling back ; and the greater part 
of the market-place was now left empty, the snow here 
trampled into orange mud, there splashed with gore, scat- 
tered all over with dead men and horses, and bristling thick 
with feathered arrows. 

On his own side the loss had been cruel. The jaws of 
the little street and the ruins of the barricade were heaped 
with the dead and dying ; and out of the hundred men 
with whom he had begun the battle, there were not seventy 
left who could still stand to arms. 

At the same time, the day was passing. The first rein- 
forcements might be lookeil for to arrive at any moment ; 
and the Lancastrians, ^alread^ shaken by the result of their 
desperate but unsuccessful onslaught^ were in an ill tem- 

^ X is.. ' ii’ J ^ " 

per to support a fresh invader. '* 

There was a dial in the wall of one of the two flanking 
18 


274 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


houses ; and this, in the frosty, winter sunshine, indicated 
ten of the forenoon. 

Dick turned to the man who was at his elbow, a little 
insignificant archer, binding a cut in his arm. 

“It was well fought,” he said, “and, by my sooth, they 
will not charge us twice.” 

“Sir,” said the little archer, “ye have fought right well 
for York, and better for j^ourself. Never hath man in 
so brief space prevailed so greatly on the duke’s affec- 
tions. That he should have entrusted such a post to one 
he knew not is a marvel. But look to your head, Sir 
Richard ! If ye be vanquished — ay, if ye give way one 
foot’s breadth — axe or cord shall punish it ; and I am set 
if ye do aught doubtful, I will tell you honestly, here to 
stab you from behind.” 

Dick looked at the little man in amaze. 

“ You ! ” he cried. “ And from behind ! ” 

“ It is right so,” retuimed the archer ; “ and because I 
like not the affair I tell it you. Ye must make the post 
good. Sir Richard, at your peril. O, our Crookback is a 
bold blade and a good warrior ; but, whether in cold blood 
or in hot, he will have all things done exact to his com- 
mandment. If any fail or hinder, they shall die the 
death.” 

“ Now, by the saints ! ” cried Richard, “ is this so ? And 
will men follow such a leader ? ” 

“Nay, they follow him gleefully,” replied the other; 
“ for if he be exact to punish, he is most open-handed te 


THE BATTLE OF $HOBEBT. 


275 


reward- And if he spai'e not the blood and sweat of 
others, he is ever liberal of his own, still in the first front 
of battle, still the last to sleep. He will go far, will Crook- 
back Dick o’ Gloucester ! ” 

The young knight, if he had before been brave and vigi- 
lant, was now all the more inclined to watchfulness and 
courage. His sudden favour, he began to perceive, had 
brought perils in its train. And he turned from the 
archer, and once more scanned anxiously the market-place. 
It lay empty as before. 

“ I like not this quietude,” he said. ‘‘Doubtless they 
prepare us some surprise.” 

And, as if in answer to his remark, the archers began 
once more to advance against the barricade, and the ar- 
rows to fall thick. But there was something hesitating in 
the attack. They came not on roundly, but seemed rather 
to await a further signal. 

Dick looked uneasily about him, spying for a hidden 
danger. And sure enough, about half way up the little 
street, a door was suddenly opened from within, and the 
house continued, for some seconds, and both by door and 
window, to disgorge a torrent of Lancastrian archers. 
These, as they leaped down, hurriedly stood to their ranks, 
bent their bows, and proceeded to pour upon Dick’s rear a 
flight of arrows. 

At the same time, the assailants in the market-place re- 
doubled their shot, and began to close in stoutly upon the 
barricade. 


276 


THE BLACK ABROW. 


Dick called down his whole command out of thehousefi^ 
and facing them both ways, and encouraging their valour 
both by word and gesture, returned as best he could the 
double shower of shafts that fell about his post. 

Meanwhile house after house was opened in the street, 
and the Lancastrians continued to pour out of the doors 
and leap down from the windows, shouting victory, until 
the number of enemies upon Dick’s rear was almost equal 
to the number in his face. It was plain that he could hold 
the post no longer ; what was worse, even if he could have 
held it, it had now become useless ; and the whole York- 
ist army lay in a posture of helplessness upon the brink 
of a complete disaster. 

The men behind him formed the vital flaw in the general 
defence ; and it was upon these that Dick turned, charg- 
ing at the head of his men. So vigorous was the attack, 
ihat the Lancastrian archers gave ground and staggered, 
and, at last, breaking their ranks, began to crowd back 
into the houses from which they had so recently and so 
vaingloriously sallied. 

Meanwhile the men from the market-place had swarmed 
across the undefended barricade, and fell on hotly upon 
the other side ; and Dick must once again face about, and 
proceed to drive them back. Once again the spirit of his 
men prevailed ; they cleared the street in a triumphant 
style, but even as they did so the others issued again out 
of the houses, and took them, a third time, upon the rear. 

The Yorkists began to be scattered ; several times Dick 


THE BATTLE OF 6HOKEBY. 


277 


found himself alone among his foes and plying his bright 
sword for life ; several times he was conscious of a hurt. 
And meanwhile the fight swayed to and fro in the street 
without determinate result. 

Suddenly Dick was aware of a great trumpeting about 
the outskirts of the town. The war-cry of York began to 
be rolled up to heaven, as by many and triumphant voices. 
And at the same time the men in front of him began to 
give ground rapidly, streaming out of the street and back 
upon the market-place. Some one gave the word to fly. 
Trumpets were blown distractedly, some for a rally, some 
to charge. It was plain that a great blow had been 
struck, and the Lancastrians were thrown, at least for the 
moment, into full disorder, and some degree of panic. 

And then, like a theatre trick, there followed the last 
act of Shoreby Battle. The men in front of Eichard 
turned tail, like a dog that has been whistled home, and 
fled like the wind. At the same moment there came 
through the market-place a storm of horsemen, fleeing and 
pursuing, the Lancastrians turning back to strike with 
the sword, the Yorkists riding them down at the point of 
the lance. 

Conspicuous in the mellay, Dick beheld the Crookback. 
He was already giving a foretaste of that furious valour 
and skill to cut his way across the ranks of war, which, 
years afterwards upon the field of Bosworth, and when he 
was stained with crimes, almost sufiiced to change the for- 
tunes of the day and the destiny of the English throne. 


278 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


Evading, striking, riding down, he so forced and so ma. 
ncBuvred his strong horse, so aptly defended himself, and 
BO liberally scattered death to his opponents, that he was 
now far ahead of the foremost of his knights, hewing his 
way, with the truncheon of a bloody sword, to where Lord 
Eisingham was rallying the bravest. A moment more and 
they had met ; the tall, splendid, and famous wamor 
against the deformed and sickly boy. 

Yet Shelton had never a doubt of the result ; and when 
the fight next opened for a moment, the figure of the earl 
had disappeared ; but still, in the first of the danger. 
Crookback Dick was launching his big horse and plying 
the truncheon of his sword. 

Thus, by Shelton’s courage in holding the mouth of the 
street against the first attack, and by the opportune arri- 
val of his seven hundred reinforcements, the lad, who was 
afterwards to be handed down to the execration of pos- 
terity under the name of Richard III., had won his first 
considerable fight. 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE SACK OF SHOREBY. 

There was not a foe left within striking distance ; and 
Dick, as he looked ruefully about him on the remainder 
of his gallant force, began to count the cost of victory. 


THE SACK OF 8HOREBY. 


279 


He was himself, now that the danger was ended, so stiff 
and sore, so bruised and cut and broken, and, above all, 
so utterly exhausted by his desperate and unremitting 
labours in the fight, that he seemed incapable of any fresh 
exertion. 

But this was not yet the hour for repose. Shoreby had 
been taken by assault ; and though an open town, and not 
in any manner to be charged with the resistance, it was 
plain that these rough fighters would be not less rough 
now that the fight was over, and that the more horrid part 
of war would fall to be enacted. Richard of Gloucester 
was not the captain to protect the citizens from his infu- 
riated soldiery ; and even if he had the will, it might be 
questioned if he had the power. 

It was, therefore, Dick’s business to find and to protect 
Joanna ; and with that end he looked about him at the 
faces of his men. The three or four who seemed likeli- 
est to be obedient and to keep sober he drew aside ; and 
promising them a rich reward and a special recommenda- 
tion to the duke, led them across the market-place, now 
empty of horsemen, and into the streets upon the further 
side. 

Every here and there small combats of from two to a 
dozen still raged upon the open street ; here and there a 
house was being besieged, the defenders throwing out 
stools and tables on the heads of the assailants. The snow 
was strewn with arms and corpses ; but except for these 
partial combats the streets were deserted, and the houses^ 


280 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


some standing open, and some shuttered and barricadec^ 
had for the most part ceased to give out smoke. 

Dick, threading the skirts of these skirmishers, led his 
followers briskly in the direction of the abbey church ; 
but when he came the length of the main street, a cry of 
horror broke from his lips. Sir Daniel’s great house had 
been carried by assault. The gates hung in splinters from 
the hinges, and a double throng kept pouring in and out 
through the entrance, seeking and carrying booty. Mean- 
while, in the upper storeys, some resistance was still being 
offered to the pillagers ; for just as Dick came within eye- 
shot of the building, a casement was burst open from 
within, and a poor wretch in murrey and blue, screaming 
and resisting, was forced through the embrasure and tossed 
into the street below. 

The most sickening apprehension fell upon Dick. He 
ran forward like one possessed, forced his way into the 
house among the foremost, and mounted without pause to 
the chamber on the third floor where he had last parted 
from Joanna. It was a mere wreck ; the furniture had 
been overthrown, the cupboards broken open, and in one 
place a trailing comer of the arras lay smouldering on the 
embers of the fire. 

Dick, almost without thinking, trod out the incipient 
conflagration, and then stood bewildered. Sir Daniel, Sir 
Oliver, Joanna, all were gone ; but whether butchered in 
the rout or safe escaped from Shoreby, who should say ? 

He caught a passing archer by the tabard. 


THE SACK OF SHOREBY., 


281 


** Fellow,” lie asked, “were ye here when this house 
was taken ? ” 

“ Let be,” said the archer. “ A murrain ! let be, or I 
strike.” 

“Hark ye,” returned Richard, “two can play at that. 
Stand and be plain.” 

But the man, flushed with drink and battle, struck Dick 
upon the shoulder with one hand, while with the other he 
twitched away his garment. Thereupon the full wrath of 
the young leader burst from his control. He seized the 
fellow in his strong embrace, and crushed him on the 
plates of his mailed bosom like a child ; then, holding him 
at arm’s length, he bid him speak as he valued life. 

“I pray you mercy ! ” gasped the archer. “An I had 
thought ye were so angry I would V been charier of cross- 
ing you. I was here indeed.” 

“ Know ye Sir Daniel ? ” pursued Dick. 

“ Well do I know him,” returned the man. 

“ Was he in the mansion ?” 

“ Ay, sir, he was,” answered the archer ; “ but even as 
we entered by the yard gate he rode forth by the gar- 
den.” 

“Alone ? ” cried Dick. 

“ He may ’a’ had a score of lances with him,” said the 
man. 

“ Lances ! No women, then ? ” asked Shelton. 

“ Troth, I saw not,” said the archer. “ But there were 
none in the house, if that be your quest.” 


282 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


“I thank you,” said DicL “Here is a piece for youl 
pains.” But groping in his wallet, Dick found noth- 
ing. “Inquire for me to-morrow,” he added — “Richard 

Slielt Sir Richard Shelton,” he corrected, “and I will 

see you handsomely rewarded.” 

And then an idea struck Dick. He hastily descended 
to the courtyard, ran with all his might across the gar- 
den, and came to the great door of the church. It stood 
wide open ; within, every corner of the pavement was 
crowded with fugitive burghers, sunounded by their 
families and laden with the most precious of their posses- 
sions, while, at the high altar, priests in full canonicals 
were imploring the mercy of God. Even as Dick entered, 
the loud chorus began to thunder in the vaulted roofs. 

He hurried through the groups of refugees, and came 
to the door of the stair that led into the steeple. And here 
a tall churchman stepped before him and arrested his ad- 
vance. 

“Whither, my son? ” he asked, severely. 

“ My father,” answered Dick, “ I am here upon an er- 
rand of expedition. Stay me not. I command here for 
my Lord of Gloucester.” 

“For my Lord of Gloucester?” repeated the priest. 
“ Hath, then, the battle gone so sore ? ” 

“The battle, father, is at an end, Lancaster clean sped, 
my Lord of Risingham — Heaven rest him ! — left upon the 
field. And now, with your good leave, I follow mine af 
fairs.” And thrusting on one side the priest, who seemed 


THE SACK OF SHOREBY. 


283 


stupefied at the news, Dick pushed open the door and 
rattled up the stairs four at a bound, and without pause 
or stumble, till he stepped upon the open platform at the 
top. 

Shore by Church tower not only commanded the town, 
as in a map, but looked far, on both sides, over sea and 
land. It was now near upon noon ; the day exceeding 
bright, the snow dazzling. And as Dick looked aroimd 
him, he could measure the consequences of the battle. 

A confused, growling uproar reached him from the 
streets, and now and then, but very rarely, the clash of 
steel. Not a ship, not so much as a skifif remained in har- 
bour ; but the sea was dotted with sails and row-boats 
laden with fugitives. On shore, too, the surface of the 
snowy meadows was broken up with bands of horsemen, 
some cutting their way towards the borders of the forest, 
others, who were doubtless of the Yorkist side, stoutly in- 
terposing and beating them back upon the town. Over 
all the open ground there lay a prodigious quantity of fall- 
en men and horses, clearly defined upon the snow. 

To complete the picture, those of the foot soldiers as had 
not found place upon a ship still kept up an archery com^ 
bat on the borders of the port, and from the cover of the 
shoreside taverns. In that quarter, also, one or two 
houses had been fired, and the smoke towered high in the 
frosty sunlight, and blew off to sea in voluminous folds. 

Already close upon the margin of the woods, and some- 
what in the line of Holywood, one particular clump of flee* 


254 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


ing horsemen riveted the attention of the young watchei 
on the tower. It was fairly numerous ; in no other quar- 
ter of the field did so many Lancastrians still hold togeth- 
er ; thus they had left a wide, discoloured wake upon the 
snow, and Dick was able to trace them step by step from 
where they had left the town. 

While Dick stood watching them, they had gained, un- 
opposed, the first fringe of the leafless forest, and, turn- 
ing a little from their direction, the sun fell for a moment 
full on their array, as it was relieved against the dusky 
wood. 

“Muri’ey and blue ! cried Dick. “ I swear it — murrey 
and blue ! ” 

The next moment he was descending the stairway. 

It was now his business to seek out the Duke of Glou- 
cester, who alone, in the disorder of the forces, might be 
able to supply him with a sufficiency of men. The fight- 
ing in the main town was now practically at an end ; and 
as Dick ran hither and thither, seeking the commander, 
the streets were thick with wandering soldiers, some laden 
with more booty than they could well stagger under, oth- 
ers shouting drunk. None of them, when questioned, had 
the least notion of the duke’s whereabouts ; and, at last, 
it was by sheer good fortune that Dick found him, where 
he sat in the saddle directing operations to dislodge the 
archers from the harbour side. 

“Sir Richard Shelton, ye are well found,” he said. “I 
owe you one thing that I value little, my life ; and one 


THE SACK OP 8HOREBT. 


28S 


that I can never pay you for, this victory^ Catesby, if I 
had ten such captains as Sir Richard, I would march 
forthright on London. But now, sir, claim your re- 
ward.” 

“ Freely, my lord,” said Dick, “freely and loudly. One 
hath escaped to whom I owe some grudges, and taken 
with him one whom I owe love and service. Give me, 
then, fifty lances, that I may pursue ; and for any obliga- 
tion that your graciousness is pleased to allow, it shall be 
clean discharged.” 

“ How call ye him ? ” inquired the duke. 

“ Sir Daniel Brackley,” answered Richard. 

“ Out upon him, double-face ! ” cried Gloucester. “ Here 
is no reward, Sir Richard ; here is fresh service offered, 
and, if that ye bring his head to me, a fresh debt upon 
my conscience. Catesby, get him these lances ; and you, 
sir, bethink ye, in the meanwhile, what pleasure, honour, 
or profit it shall be mine to give you.” 

Just then the Yorkist skirmishers carried one of the 
shoreside taverns, swarming in upon it on three sides, and 
driving out or taking its defenders. Crookback Dick was 
pleased to cheer the exploit, and pushing his horse a little 
nearer, called to see the prisoners. 

There were four or five of them — two men of my Lord 
Shoreby’s and one of Lord Risingham’s among the num- 
ber, and last, but in Dick’s eyes not least, a tall, sham- 
bling, grizzled old shipman, between drunk and sober, 
and with a dog whimpering and jumping at his heela 


286 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


I 


The young duke passed them for a moment under a se* 
vere review. 

“ Good,” he said. “ Hang them.” 

And he turned the other way to watch the progress oi 
the fight 

“My lord,” said Dick, “so please you, I have found my 
reward. Grant me the life and liberty of yon old ship- 
man.” 

Gloucester tumed and looked the speaker in the face, 

“ Sir Richard,” he said, “I make not war with peacock’s 
feathers, but steel shafts. Those that are mine enemies 
I slay, and that without excuse or favour. For, bethink 
ye, in this realm of England, that is so torn in pieces, 
there is not a man of mine but hath a brother or a friend 
upon the other party. If, then, I did begin to grant these 
pai'dons, I might sheathe my sword.” 

“ It may be so, my lord ; and yet I will be overbold, and, 
at the risk of your disfavour, recall your lordship’s prom- 
ise,” replied Dick. 

Richard of Gloucester flushed. 

“ Mark it right well,” he said, harshly. “ I love not 
mercy, nor yet mercymongera Ye have this day laid the 
foundations of high fortune. If ye oppose to me my word, 
which I have plighted, I wiU yield. But, by the glory of 
heaven, there your favour dies ! ” 

“Mine is the loss,” said Dick. 

“ Give him his sailor,” said the duke ; and wheeling his 
horse, he tumed his back upon young Skelton. 


THE SACK OF 6HOREBY. 


287 


Dick was nor glad nor sorry. He had seen too much 
of the young duke to set great store on his affection ; and 
the origin and growth of his own favour had been too 
flimsy and too rapid to inspire much confidence. One 
thing alone he feared — that the vindictive leader might 
revoke the offer of the lances. But here he did justice 
neither to Gloucester’s honour (such as it was) nor above 
all, to his decision. If he had once judged Dick to be 
the right man to pursue Sir Daniel, he was not one to 
change ; and he soon proved it by shouting after Catesby 
to be speedy, for the paladin was waiting. 

In the meanwhile, Dick turned to the old shipman, who 
had seemed equally indifferent to his condemnation and 
to his subsequent release. 

“ Arblaster,” said Dick, “ I have done you ill ; but now, 
by the rood, I think I have cleared the score.” 

But the old skipper only looked upon him dully and 
held his peace. 

“Come,” continued Dick, “a life is a life, old shrew, 
and it is more than ships or liquor. Say ye forgive me ; 
for if your life be worth nothing to you, it hath cost me 
the beginnings of my fortune. Come, I have paid for it 
dearly ; be not so churlish,” 

“ An I had had my ship,” said Arblaster, “ I would ’a’ 
been forth and safe on the high seas — I and my man 
Tom. But ye took my ship, gossip, and I m a beggar ; 
and for my man Tom, a knave fellow in russet shot him 
down. * Murrain I ’ quoth he, and spake never again. 


288 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


‘ Murrain ’ was the last of his words, and the poor spirit ol 
him passed. ’A will never sail no more, will my Tom.” 

Dick was seized with unavailing penitence and pity ; he 
sought to take the skipper’s hand, but Arblaster avoided 
his touch. 

“ Nay,” said he, “ let be. Y’ have played the devil with 
me, and let that content you.” 

The words died in Richard’s throat. He saw, through 
tears, the poor old man, bemused with liquor and sorrow, 
go shambling away, with bowed head, across the snow, 
and the unnoticed dog whimpering at his heels. And 
for the first time began to understand the desperate game 
that we play in life ; and how a thing once done is not 
to be changed or remedied, by any penitence. 

But there was no time left to him for vain regret. 
Catesby had now collected the horsemen, and riding up 
to Dick he dismounted, and offered him his own horse. 

“ This morning,” he said, “ I was somewhat jealous of 
your favour ; it hath not been of a long growth ; and now. 
Sir Richard, it is with a very good heart that I offer you 
this horse — to ride away with.” 

“ Suffer me yet a moment,” replied Dick. “ This favour 
of mine — whereupon was it founded ? ” 

“Upon your name,” answered Catesby, “It is my 
lord’s chief superstition. Were my name Richard, J 
should be an earl to-morrow.” 

“Well, sir, I thank you,” returned Dick ; “and since I 
am little likely to follow these great fortunes, I will even 


THE SACK OF SHOREBY. 


289 


say farewell. I will not pretend I was displeased to thint 
myself upon the road to fortune ; but I will not pretend, 
neither, that I am over-sorry to be done with it. Coni- 
mand and riches, they are brave things, to be sure ; but 
a word in your ear — yon duke of yours, he is a fearsome 
lad.” 

Catesby laughed. 

“Nay,” said he, “ of a verity he that rides with Crooked 
Dick will ride deep. Well, God keep us all from evil ! 
Speed ye well.” 

Thereupon Dick put himself at the head of his men, 
and giving the word of command, rode off. 

He made straight across the town, following what he 
supposed to be the route of Sir Daniel, and spying around 
for any signs that might decide if he were right. 

The streets were strewn with the dead and the wounded, 
whose fate, in the bitter frost, was far the more pitiable. 
Gangs of the victors went from house to house, pillaging 
and stabbing, and sometimes singing together as they 
went. 

From different quarters, as he rode on, the sounds of 
violence and outrage came to young Shelton’s ears ; now 
the blows of the sledge-hammer on some barricaded door, 
and now the miserable shrieks of women. 

Dick’s heart had just been awakened. He had just seen 
the cruel consequences of his own behaviour ; and the 
thought of the sum of misery that was now acting in the 
whole of Shoreby filled him with despair. 

19 


290 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


At length he reached the outskirts, and there, sure 
enough, he saw straight before him the same broad, 
beaten track across the snow that he had marked from 
the summit of the church. Here, then, he went the faster 
on ; but still, as he rode, he kept a bright eye upon the 
fallen men and horses that lay beside the track. Many of 
these, he was relieved to see, wore Sir Daniel’s colors, and 
the faces of some, who lay upon their back, he even rec- 
ognized. 

About half-way between the town and the forest, those 
whom he was following had plainly been assailed by 
archers ; for the corpses lay pretty closely scattered, each 
pierced by an arrow. And here Dick spied among the 
rest the body of a very young lad, whose face was some- 
how hauntingly familiar to him. 

He halted his troop, dismounted, and raised the lad’s 
head. As he did so, the hood fell back, and a profusion 
of long brown hair unrolled itself. At the same time the 
eyes opened. 

“ Ah ! lion-driver ! ” said a feeble voice. “ She is far- 
ther on. Ride — ride fast ! ” 

And then the poor young lady fainted once again. 

One of Dick’s men carried a flask of some strong cor- 
dial, and with this Dick succeeded in reviving conscious- 
ness. Then he took Joanna’s friend upon his saddle-bow, 
and once more pushed toward the forest. 

“ Why do ye take me ? ” said the girl. “ Ye but delay 
your speed.” 


NIGHT IN THE WOODS. 


291 


“ Nay, Mistress Kisingham,” replied Dick. “ Shoreby 
is full of blood and drunkenness and riot. Here ye are 
safe ; content ye.” 

“ I will not be beholden to any of your faction,” she 
cried ; “set me down.” 

“ Madam, ye know not what ye say,” returned Dick. 
“ Y’ are hurt ” 

“ I am not,” she said. “ It was my horse was slain.” 

“It matters not one jot,” replied Richard. “Ye are hero 
in the midst of open snow, and compassed about with ene- 
mies. Whether ye will or not, I carry you with me. Glad 
am I to have the occasion ; for thus shall I repay some 
portion of our debt.” 

For a little while she was silent. Then, very suddenly, 
she asked : 

“ My uncle ? ” 

“ My Lord Risingham ? ” returned Dick. “ I would 1 
had good news to give you, madam ; but I have none. I 
saw him once in the battle, and once only. Let us hope 
the best.” 


CHAPTER V. 

NIGHT IN THE WOODS : ALICIA BISINGHAM. 

It was almost certain that Sir Daniel had made for the 
Moat House ; but, considering the heavy snow, the late- 
ness of the hour, and the necessity under which he would 


292 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


lie of avoiding the few roads and sti-iking across the wood, 
it was equally certain that he could not hope to reach it 
ere the morrow. 

There were two courses open to Dick ; either to continue 
to follow in the knight’s trail, and, if he were able, to fall 
upon him that very night in camp, or to strike out a path 
of his own, and seek to place himself between Sir Daniel 
and his destination. 

Either scheme was open to serious objection, and Dick, 
who feared to expose Joanna to the hazards of a fight, had 
not yet decided between them when he reached the bor- 
ders of the wood. 

At this point Sir Daniel had turned a little to his left, 
and then plunged straight under a grove of veiy lofty tim- 
ber. His party had then formed to a narrower front, in 
order to pass between the trees, and the track was trod 
proportionally deeper in the snow. The eye followed it, 
under the leafless tracery of the oaks, running direct and 
narrow ; the trees stood over it, with knotty joints and the 
great, uplifted forest of their boughs ; there was no sound, 
whether of man or beast — not so much as the stirring of 
a robin ; and over the field of snow the winter sun lay 
golden among netted shadows. 

“ How say ye,” asked Dick of one of the men, “ to follow 
straight on, or strike across for Tunstall ? ” 

“Sir Richard,” replied the man-at-arms, “ I would fol- 
low the line until they scatter.” 

“ Ye are, doubtless, right,” returned Dick ; “ but wi 


NIGHT IN THE WOODS. 


293 


came right hastily upon the errand, even as the time com- 
manded. Here are no houses, neither for food nor shel- 
ter, and by the morrow’s dawn we shall know both cold 
fingers and an empty belly. How say ye, lads ? Will ye 
stand a pinch for expedition’s sake, or shall we turn by 
Holy wood and sup with Mother Church ? The case being 
somewhat doubtful, I will drive no man ; yet if ye would 
suffer me to lead you, ye would choose the first.” 

The men answered, almost with one voice, that they 
would follow Sir Richard where he would. 

And Dick, setting spur to his horse, began once more to 
go forward. 

The snow in the trail had been trodden very hard, and 
the pursuers had thus a great advantage over the pur- 
sued. Tliey pushed on, indeed, at a round trot, two hun- 
dred hoofs beating alternately on the dull pavement of the 
snow, and the jingle of weapons and the snorting of horses 
raising a warlike noise along the arches of the silent wood. 

Presently, the wide slot of the pursued came out upon 
the high road from Holy wood ; it was there, for a moment, 
indistinguishable ; and, where it once more plunged into 
the unbeaten snow upon the farther side, Dick was sur- 
prised to see it naiTower and lighter trod. Plainly, profit- 
ing by the road. Sir Daniel had begun already to scatter 
his command. 

At all hazards, one chance being equal to another, Dick 
continued to pursue the straight trail ; and that, after an 
hour’s riding, in which it led into the very depths of the 


294 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


forest, suddenly split, like a bursting shell, into two dozei 
others, leading to every point of the compass. 

Dick drew bridle ’in despair. The short winter’s day 
was near an end ; the sun, a dull red orange, shorn of rays, 
swam low among the leafless thickets ; the shadows were 
a mile long upon the snow ; the frost bit cruelly at the fin- 
ger-nails ; and the breath and steam of the horses mounted 
in a cloud. 

“ Well, we are outwitted,” Dick confessed. “ Strike wo 
for Holy wood, after all. It is still nearer us than Tuustall 
— or should be by the station of the sun.” 

So they wheeled to their left, turning their backs on the 
red shield of sun, and made across country for the abbey. 
But now times were changed with them ; they could no 
longer spank forth briskly on a path beaten firm by the 
passage of their foes, and for a goal to which that path 
itself conducted them. .Now they must plough at a dull 
pace through the encumbering snow, continually pausing 
to decide their course, continually floundering in drifts. 
The sun soon left them ; the glow of the west decayed; and 
presently they were wandering in a shadow of blackness, 
under frosty stars. 

Presently, indeed, the moon would clear the hilltops, 
and they might resume their march. But till then, every 
random step might carry them wider of their march. 
There was nothing for it but to camp and wait. 

Sentries were posted ; a spot of gi’ound was cleared of 
snow, and, after some failures, a good fire blazed in the 


NIGHT IN THE WOODS. 


296 


midst. The men-at-arms sat close about this forest hearth, 
shaiing such provisions as they had, and passing about the 
flask ; and Dick, having collected the most delicate of the 
rough and scanty fare, brought it to Lord Risingham’a 
niece, where she sat apart from the soldiery against a tree. 

She sat upon one horse-cloth, wrapped in another, and 
stared straight before her at the firelit scene. At the of- 
fer of food she started, like one wakened from a dream, 
and then silently refused. 

“ Madam,” said Dick, “ let me beseech you, punish me 
not so cruelly. Wherein I have offended you, I know not ; 
I have, indeed, carried you away, but with a friendly vio- 
lence ; I have, indeed, exposed you to the inclemency of 
night, but the hurry that lies upon me hath for its end the 
preservation of another, who is no less frail and no less 
imfriended than yourself. At least, madam, punish not 
yourself ; and eat, if not for hunger, then for strength.” 

“ I will eat nothing at the hands that slew my kinsman,” 
iflie replied. 

“ Dear madam,” Dick cried, I swear to you upon the 
rood I touched him not.” 

“Swear to me that he still lives,” she returned. 

“I will not palter with you,” answered Dick. “Pity 
bids me to wound you. In my heart I do believe him 
dead.” 

“ And ye ask me to eat ! ” she cried. “ Ay, and they 
call you ‘ sir ’ ! Y’ have won your spurs by my good kins- 
man’s murder. And had I not been fool and traitor both, 


296 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


and saved you in your enemy’s house, ye should have died 
the death, and he — he that was worth twelve of you— 
were living.” 

“I did but my man’s best, even as your kinsman did 
upon the other party,” answered Dick. “ Were he still 
living — as I vow to Heaven I wish it ! — he would praise, 
not blame me.” 

“ Sir Daniel hath told me,” she replied. “ He marked 
you at the barricade. Upon you, he saith, their party 
foundered ; it was you that won the battle. Well, then, 
it was you that killed my good Lord Risingham, as sure 
as though ye had strangled him. And ye would have me 
eat with you — and your hands not washed from killing ? 
But Sir Daniel hath sworn your downfall. He ’tis that 
will avenge me ! ” 

The unfortunate Dick was plunged in gloom. Old 
Arblaster returned upon his mind, and he groaned aloud. 

“ Do ye hold me so guilty ? ” he said ; “ you that de- 
fended me — you that ai’e Joanna’s friend ? ” 

“ What made ye in the battle ? ” she retorted. “ Y’ are 
of no party ; y’ are but a lad — but legs and body, without 
government of wit or counsel ! Wherefore did ye fight ? 
For the love of hurt, pardy ! ” 

“ Nay,” cried Dick, “ I know not. But as the realm of 
England goes, if that a poor gentleman fight not upon 
the one side, perforce he must fight upon the other. He 
may not stand alone ; ’tis not in nature.” 

“ They that have no judgment should not draw the 


NIGHT IN THE WOODS. 


297 


sword,” replied the young lady. “ Ye that fight but for a 
hazard, what are ye but a butcher ? War is but noble by 
the cause, and y’ have disgraced it.” 

“Madam,” said the miserable Dick, “I do partly see 
mine error. I have made too much haste ; I have been 
busy before my time. Already I stole a ship — thinking, I 
do swear it, to do well — and thereby brought about the 
death of many innocent, and the grief and ruin of a poor 
old man whose face this veiy day hath stabbed me like a 
dagger. And for this morning, I did but design to do 
myself credit, and get fame to many with, and, behold I 
I have brought about the death of your dear kinsman that 
was good to me. And what besides, I know not. For, 
alas ! I may have set York upon the throne, and that may 
be the worser cause, and may do hurt to England. O, 
madam, I do see my sin. I am unfit for life. I will, for 
penance sake and to avoid worse evil, once I have finished 
this adventure, get me to a cloister. I will forswear 
Joanna and the trade of arms. I will be a friar, and pray 
for your good kinsman’s spirit all my days.” 

It appeared to Dick, in this extremity of his humiliation 
and repentance, that the young lady had laughed. 

Raising his countenance, he found her looking down 
upon him, in the fire-light, with a somewhat peculiar but 
not unkind expression. 

“ Madam,” he cried, thinking the laughter to have been 
an illusion of his hearing, but still, from her changed 
looks, hoping to have touched her heart, “madam, will 


298 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


not this content you ? I give up all to undo what I have 
done amiss ; I make heaven certain for Lord Kisingham. 
And all this upon the very day that I have won my sj)urs, 
and thought myself the happiest young gentleman on 
ground.” 

“ O boy,” she said — “ good boy ! ” 

And then, to the extreme surprise of Dick, she first very 
tenderly wiped the tears away from his cheeks, and then, 
as if yielding to a sudden impulse, threw both her arms 
about his neck, drew up his face, and kissed him. A 
pitiful bewilderment came over simple-minded Dick. 

“But come,” she said, with great cheerfulness, “you 
that are a captain, ye must eat. Why sup ye not ? ” 

“ Dear Mistress Risingham,” replied Dick, “ I did but 
wait first upon my prisoner ; but, to say truth, penitence 
will no longer suffer me to endure the sight of food. I 
were better to fast, dear lady, and to pray.” 

“Call me Alicia,” she said; “are we not old friends? 
And now, come, I will eat with you, bit for bit and sup 
for sup ; so if ye eat not, neither will I ; but if ye eat 
hearty, I will dine like a ploughman.” 

So there and then she fell to ; and Dick, who had an 
excellent stomach, proceeded to bear her company, at first 
with great reluctance, but gradually, as he entered into 
the spirit, with more and more vigour and devotion : 
until, at last, he forgot even to watch his model, and 
most heartily repaired the expenses of his day of labour 
and excitement. 


NIGHT IN THE WOODS. 


299 


** Lion-driver,” she said, at length, “ye do not admire a 
maid in a man’s jerkin ? ” 

The moon was now up ; and they were only waiting to 
repose the wearied horses. By the moon’s light, the still 
penitent but now well-fed Richard beheld her looking 
somewhat coquettishly down upon him. 

“ Madam ” he stammered, surprised at this new 

turn in her manners. 

“ Nay,” she interrupted, “ it skills not to deny ; Joanna 
hath told me, but come. Sir Lion-driver, look at me — am 
I am so homely — come ! ” 

And she made bright eyes at him. 

“ Ye are something smallish, indeed ” began Dick. 

And here again she interrupted him, this time with a 
ringing peal of laughter that completed his confusion and 
surprise. 

“ Smallish ! ” she cried. “ Nay, now, be honest as ye 
are bold ; I am a dwarf, or little better ; but for all that 
— come, tell me ! — for all that, passably fair to look upon ; 
is’t not so ? ” 

“Nay, madam, exceedingly fair,” said the distressed 
knight, pitifully trying to seem easy. 

“And a man would be right glad to wed me?" she 
pursued. 

’ “ O, madam, right glad ! ” agreed Dick. 

“ Call me Alicia,” said she. 

“ Alicia,” quoth Sir Richard. 

“ Well, then, lion-driver,” she continued, “ sith that y® 


300 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


slew my kinsman, and left me without stay, ye owe me, in 
honour, every reparation ; do ye not ? ” 

“I do, madam,” said Dick. “Although, upon my 
heart, I do hold me but pai’tially guilty of that bravo 
knight’s blood.” 

“ Would ye evade me ? ” she cried. 1 

“ Madam, not so. I have told you ; at your bidding, I 
will even turn me a monk,” said Kichard. 

“ Then, in honour, ye belong to me ? ” she concluded. 

“ In honour, madam, I suppose ” began the young 

man. 

“ Go to ! ” she interrupted ; “ ye are too full of 
catches. In honour do ye belong to me, till ye have paid 
the evil?” 

“ In honour, I do,” said Dick. 

“ Hear, then,” she continued ; ** Ye would make but a 
sad friar, methinks ; and since I am to dispose of you at 
pleasure, I will even take you for my husband. Nay, 
now, no words ! ” cried she. “ They will avail you noth- 
ing. For see how just it is, that you who deprived me of 
one home, should supply me with another. And as for 
Joanna, she will be the first, believe me, to commend the 
change ; for, after all, as we be dear friends, what matters 
it with which of us ye wed ? Not one whit ! ” 

“ Madam,” said Dick, “ I will go into a cloister, an ye 
please to bid me ; but to wed with anyone in this big 
world besides Joanna Sedley is what I will consent to 
neither for man’s force nor yet for lady’s pleasure. Pardon 


NIGHT IN THE WOODS. 


- 30i 


me if I speak my plain thoughts plainly ; but where a 
maid is very bold, a poor man must even be the bolder.” 

“Dick,” she said, “ye sweet boy, ye must come and 
kiss me for that word. Nay, fear not, ye shall kiss me for 
Joanna ; and when we meet, I shall give it back to her, 
and say I stole it. And as for what ye owe me, why, dear 
simpleton, methinks ye were not alone in that great bat- 
tle ; and even if York be on the throne, it was not you 
that set him there. But for a good, sweet, honest heart, 
Dick, y’ are all that ; and if I could find it in my soul to 
envy your Joanna anything, I would even envy her your 
love.” 


CHAPTER VL 

NIGHT IN THE WOODS {concluded) : DIOK AND JOAN. 

The horses had by this time finished the small store of 
provender, and fully breathed from their fatigues. At 
Dick’s command, the fire was smothered in snow ; and 
while his men got once more wearily to saddle, he him- 
self, remembering, somewhat late, true woodland caution, 
chose a tall oak and nimbly clambered to the topmost 
fork. Hence he could look far abroad on the moonlit and 
snow-paven forest. On the south-west, dark against the 
horizon, stood those upland, heathy quarters where he 
and Joanna had met with the terrifying misadventure of 
the leper. And there his eye was caught by a spot of 
ruddy brightness no bigger than a needle’s eye. 


602 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


\ 

He blamed himself sharply for his previous negleci 
Were that, as it appeared to be, the shining of Sir Dan- 
iel’s camp-fire, he should long ago have seen and marched 
for it ; above all, he should, for no consideration, have an 
nounced his neighborhood by lighting a fire of his own. 
But now he must no longer squander valuable hours. 
The direct way to the uplands was about two miles in 
length ; but it was crossed by a very deep, precipitous 
dingle, impassable to mounted men ; and for the sake of 
speed, it seemed to Dick advisable to desert the horses 
and attempt the adventure on foot. 

Ten men were left to guard the horses ; signals were 
agreed upon by which they could communicate in case of 
need ; and Dick set forth at the head of the remainder, 
Alicia Risingham walking stoutly by his side. 

The men had freed themselves of heavy armour, and 
left behind their lances ; and they now marched with a very 
good spirit in the frozen snow, and under the exhilarating 
lustre of the moon. The descent into the dingle, where 
a stream strained sobbing through the snow and ice, was 
effected with silence and order ; and on the further side, 
being then within a short half mile of where Dick had 
seen the glimmer of the fire, the party halted to breathe 
before the attack. 

In the vast silence of the wood, the lightest sounds were 
audible from far ; and Alicia, who was keen of hearing, 
held up her finger warningly and stooped to listen. All 
followed her example ; but besides the groans of the 


NIGHT IN THE WOODS. 


303 


choked brook in the dingle close behind, and the barking 
of a fox at a distance of many miles among the forest, to 
Dick’s acutest hearkening, not a breath was audible. 

“ But yet, for sure, I heard the clash of harness,” whis* 
pered Alicia. 

“Madam,” returned Dick, who was more afraid of that 
young lady than of ten stout warriors, “ I would not hint 
ye were mistaken ; but it might well have come from 
either of the camps.” 

“It came not thence. It came from westward,” she de- 
clared. 

“ It may be what it will,” returned Dick ; “ and it must 
be as Heaven please. Reck we not a jot, but push on the 
livelier, and put it to the touch. Up, friends — enough 
breathed.” 

As they advanced, the snow became more and more 
trampled with hoof-marks, and it was plain that they were 
drawing near to the encampment of a considei’able force 
of mounted men. Presently they could see the smoke pour- 
ing from among the trees, ruddily coloured on its lower 
edge and scattering bright sparks. 

And here, pursuant to Dick’s orders, his men began to 
open out, creeping stealthily in the covert, to surround on 
every side the camp of their opponents. He himself, plac- 
ing Alicia in the shelter of a bulky oak, stole straight 
forth in the direction of the fire. 

At last, through an opening of the wood, his eye em- 
braced the scene of the encampment. The fire had been 


304 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


built upon a heathy hummock of the ground, surrounded 
on three sides by thicket, and it now burned very strong, 
roaring aloud and brandishing flames. Around it there 
sat not quite a dozen people, warmly cloaked ; but though 
the neighbouring snow was trampled down as by a regi- 
ment, Dick looked in vain for any horse. He began to 
have a terrible misgiving that he was out-manoeuvred. 
At the same time, in a tall man with a steel salet, who was 
spreading his hands before the blaze, he recognized his 
old friend and stiU kindly enemy, Bennet Hatch ; and in 
two others, sitting a little back, he made out, even in 
their male disguise, Joanna Sedley and Sir Daniel’s wife. 

“ Well,” thought he to himself, “ even if I lose my horses, 
let me get my Joanna, and why should I complain? ” 

And then, from the further side of the encampment, 
there came a little whistle, announcing that his men had 
joined, and the investment was complete. 

Bennet, at the sound, started to his feet ; but ere he 
had time to spring upon his arms, Dick hailed him. 

“ Bennet,” he said — “ Bennet, old friend, yield ye. Ye 
will but spill men’s lives in vain, if ye resist.” 

“ ’Tis Master Shelton, by St, Barbary ! ” cried Hatch. 
“ Yield me ? Ye ask much. What force have ye ? ” 

“ I tell you, Bennet, ye are both outnumbered and be- 
girt,” said Dick. “ Caesar and Charlemagne would cry for 
quarter. I have two score men at my whistle, and with 
one shoot of arrows I could answer for you all.” 

“ Master Dick,” said Bennet, “ it goes against my heart ; 


NIGHT IN THE WOODS. 


305 


but I must do my duty. The saints help you ! ” And 
therewith he raised a little tucket to his mouth and wound 
a rousing call. 

Then followed a moment of confusion ; for while Dick, 
fearing for the ladies, still hesitated to give the word to 
shoot. Hatch’s little band sprang to their weapons and 
formed back to back as for a fierce resistance. In the 
hurry of their change of place, Joanna sprang from her 
seat and ran like an arrow to her lover’s side. 

“ Here, Dick ! ” she cried, as she clasped his hand in 
hers. 

But Dick still stood irresolute ; he was yet young to 
the more deplorable necessities of war, and the thought 
of old Lady Brackley checked the command upon his 
tongue. His own men became restive. Some of them 
cried on him by name ; others, of their own accord, began 
to shoot ; and at the first discharge poor Bennet bit the 
dust. Then Dick awoke. 

“ On ! ” he cried. “ Shoot, boys, and keep to cover. 
England and York ! ” 

But just then the dull beat of many horses on the snow 
suddenly arose in the hollow ear of the night, and, with 
incredible swiftness, drew nearer and swelled louder. At 
the same time, answering tuckets repeated and repeated 
Hatch’s call. 

“Rally, rally !” cried Dick. “Rally upon me! Rally 
/or your lives I ” 

But his men — afoot, scattered, taken in the hour when 
20 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


SOQ 

they had counted on an easy triumph — began instead to 
give ground severally, and either stood wavering or dis- 
persed into the thickets. And when the first of the horse- 
men came charging through the open avenues and fiercely 
riding their steeds into the underwood, a few stragglers 
were overthrown or speared among the brush, but the 
bulk of Dick’s command had simply melted at the rumor 
of their coming. 

Dick stood for a moment, bitterly recognizing the fruits 
of his precipitate and unwise valor. Sir Daniel bad seen 
the fire ; he had moved out with his main force, whether 
to attack his pursuers or to take them in the rear if they 
shovild venture the assaiilt. His had been throughout 
the part of a sagacious captain ; Dick’s the conduct of an 
eager boy. And here was the youug knight, his sweet- 
heart, indeed, holding him tightly by the hand, but other- 
wise alone, his whole command of men and horses dis- 
persed in the night and the wide forest, like a paper of 
pins in a hay barn. 

“The saints enlighten me ! ” he thought. “It is well I 
was knighted for this morning’s matter ; this doth me little 
honour.” 

And thereupon, still holding Joanna, he began to run. 

The silence of the night was now shattered by the shouts 
of the men of Tunstall, as they galloped hither and thither, 
hunting fugitives ; and Dick broke boldly through the 
underwood and ran straight before him like a deer. The 
silver clearness of the moon upon the open snow increased 


NIGHT IN THH 'WOODS. 


S07 


by contrast, the obscurity of the thickets ; and the extreme 
dispersion of the vanquished led the pursuers into widely 
divergent patha Hence, in but a little while, Dick and 
Joanna paused, in a close covert, and heard the sounds of 
the pursuit, scattering abroad, indeed, in all directions, 
but yet fainting already in the distance. 

“An I had but kept a reserve of them together,” Dick 
cried, bitterly, “ I could have turned the tables yet I 
Well, we live and learn ; next time, it shall go better, by 
the rood.” 

“Nay, Dick,” said Joanna, “what matters it? Here we 
are together once again.” 

He looked at her, and there she was — John Matcham, 
as of yore, in hose and doublet. But now he knew her ; 
now, even in that ungainly dress, she smiled upon him, 
bright with love ; and his heart was transported with 
joy. 

“Sweetheart,” he said, *'if ye forgive this blunderer, 
what care I ? Make we direct for Holywood ; there lieth 
your good guardian and my better friend. Lord Foxham. 
There shall we be wed ; and whether poor or wealthy, 
famous or unknown, what matters it? This day, dear 
love, I won my spurs ; I was commended by great men for 
my valour ; I thought myself the goodliest man of war in 
all broad England. Then, first, I fell out of my favour 
with the great ; and now have I been well thrashed, and 
clean lost my soldiers. There was a downfall for conceit! 
But, dear, I care not — dear, if ye still love me and will 


308 


THE BLACK ARRO»H 


wed, I would have my knighthood done away, ana mifid 
it not a jot” 

“ My Dick ! ” she cried. “ And did they knight you ? ” 
“Ay, dear, ye are my lady now,” he answered, fondly ; 
“or ye shall, ere noon to-morrow — will ye not?” 

“ That will I, Dick, with a glad heart,” she answered. 

“ Ay, sir ? Methought ye were to be a monk ! ” said a 
voice in their ears. 

“ Alicia ! ” cried Joanna. 

“Even so,” replied the young lady, coming forward. 
“ Alicia, whom ye left for dead, and whom your lion-driver 
found, and brought to life again, and, by my sooth, made 
love to, if ye want to know ! ” 

“ I’ll not believe it,” cried Joanna. “ Dick ! ” 

“ Dick ! ” mimicked Alicia. “ Dick, indeed ! Ay, fair 
sir, and ye desert poor damsels in distress,” she continued, 
turning to the young knight. “Ye leave them planted 
behind oaks. But they say true — the age of chivalry is 
dead.” 

“ Madam,” cried Dick, in despair, “ upon my soul I had 
forgotten you outright. Madam, ye must try to pardon 
me. Ye see, I had new found Joanna ! ” 

“ I did not suppose that ye had done it o’ purpose,” 
she retorted. “ But I will be cruelly avenged. I will tell 
a secret to my Lady Shelton — she that is to be,” she added, 
curtseying. “Joanna,” she continued, “I believe, upon 
my soul, your sweetheart is a bold fellow in a fight, but he 
is, let me tell you plainly, the softest-hearted simpleton in 


NIGHT IN THE WOODS. 


309 


England. Go to — ye may do your pleasure with him ! 
And now, fool children, first kiss me, either one of you, for 
luck and kindness ; and then kiss each other just one 
minute by the glass, and not one second longer ; and then 
let us all three set forth for Holywood as fast as we can 
stir ; for these woods, methinks, are full of peril and ex- 
ceeding cold.” 

“ But did my Dick make love to you ? ” asked Joanna, 
clinging to her sweetheart’s side. 

“Nay, fool girl,” returned Alicia ; “it was I made love 
to him. I offered to marry him, indeed ; but he bade me 
go marry with my likes. These were his words. Nay, 
that I will say : he is more plain than pleasant. But now, 
children, for the sake of sense, set forward. Shall we go 
once more over the dingle, or push straight for Holy- 
wood?” 

“ Why,” said Dick, “ I would like dearly to get upon a 
horse ; for I have been sore mauled and beaten, one way 
and another, these last days, and my poor body is one 
bruise. But how think ye ? If the men, upon the alarm 
of the fighting, had fled away, we should have gone about 
for nothing. ’Tis but some three short miles to Holywood 
direct ; the bell hath not beat nine ; the snow is pretty 
firm to walk upon, the moon clear ; how if we went even 
as we are ? ” 

“ Agreed,” cried Alicia ; but Joanna only pressed upon 
Dick’s arm. 

Forth, then, they went, through open leafless groves 


310 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


and down snow-clad alleys, under the white face of the 
winter moon ; Dick and Joanna walking hand in hand and 
in a hearen of pleasure ; and their light-minded compan- 
ion, her own bereavements heartily forgotten, followed a 
pace or two behind, now rallying them upon their silence, 
and now drawing happy pictures of their future and 
\inited lives. 

Still, indeed, in the distance of the wood, the riders of 
Tunstall might be heard urging their pursuit ; and from 
time to time cries or the clash of steel announced the 
shock of enemies. But in these young folk, bred among 
the alarms of war, and fresh from such a multiplicity of 
dangers, neither fear nor pity could be lightly weakened. 
CJontent to find the sounds still drawing farther and farther 
away, they gave up their hearts to the enjoyment of the 
hour, walking already, as Alicia put it, in a wedding pro- 
cession ; and neither the rude solitude of the forest, nor 
the cold of the freezing night, had any force to shadow or 
distract their happiness. 

At length, from a rising hill, they looked below them on 
the dell of Holywood. The great windows of the forest 
abbey shone with torch and candle ; its high pinnacles 
and spires arose very clear and silent, and the gold rood 
upon the topmost summit glittered brightly in the moon. 
All about it, in the open glade, camp-fires were burning, 
and the ground was thick with huts ; and across the midst 
of the picture the frozen river curved. 

“ By the mass.” said Richard. “ there are Lord Foxham’s 


NIGHT IN TItK WOODS. 


.^11 


fellows still encamped. The messenger hath certainly mia* 
carried. Well, then, so better. We have power at hand 
to face Sir DanieL” 

But if Lord Foxham’s men still lay encamped in the 
long holm at Holywood, it was from a different reason from 
the one supposed by Dick. They had marched, indeed, 
for Shoreby ; but ere they were half way thither, a second 
messenger met them, and bade them return to their morn- 
ing’s camp, to bar the road against Lancastrian fugitives, 
and to be so much nearer to the main army of York. For 
Richard of Gloucester, having finished the battle and 
stamped out his foes in that district, was already on the 
march to rejoin his brother ; and not long after the return 
of my Lord Foxham’s retainers, Crookback himself drew 
rein before the abbey door. It was in honour of this 
august visitor that the windows shone with lights ; and at 
the hour of Dick’s arrival with his sweetheart and her 
friend, the whole ducal party was being entertained in the 
refectory with the splendour of that powerful and luxu- 
rious monastery. 

Dick, not quite with his good will, was brought before 
them. Gloucester, sick with fatigue, sat leaning upon one 
hand his white and ten-ifying countenance ; Lord Foxham, 
half recovered from his wound, was in a place of honour 
on his left. 

“How, sir?” asked Richard. “Have ye brought me 
Sir Daniel’s head ? ” 

“My lord duke,” replied Dick, stoutly enough, but with 


812 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


a qualm at heart, “ I have not even the good fortune U 
return with my command. I have been, so please youj 
grace, well beaten.” 

Gloucester looked upon him with a formidable frown. 

“ I gave you fifty lances,* sir,” he said. 

“My lord duke, I had but fifty men-at-arms,” replied 
the young kuight. 

“How is this ? ” said Gloucester. “ He did ask me fifty 
lances.” 

“ May it please your grace,” replied Oatesby, smoothly, 
“ for a piusuit we gave him but the horsemen.” 

“It is well,” replied Richard, adding, “ Shelton, ye may 

go-” 

“ Stay ! ” said Lord Foxham. “ This young man likewise 
had a charge from me. It may be he hath better sped. 
Say, Master Shelton, have ye found the maid ? ” 

“ I praise the saints, my lord,” said Dick, “ she is in this 
house.” 

“Is it even so? Well, then, my lord the duke,” re- 
sumed Lord Foxham, “ with your good will, to-morrow, 
before the army march, I do propose a marriage. This 
young squire ” 

“ Young knight,” interrupted Catesby. 

“ Say ye so. Sir William ? ” cried Lord Foxham. 

“I did myself, and for good service, dub him knight," 
said Gloucester. “ He hath twice manfully served me. 

* Technically, the term “ lance ’’ included a not quite certain nnm 
her of foot soldiers attached to the man-at-arms. 


dick’s revenge. 


313 


It is not valour of hands, it is a man’s mind of iron, that 
he lacks. He will not rise, Lord Foxham. ’Tis a fellow 
that will fight indeed bravely in a mellay, but hath a 
capon’s heart. Howbeit, if he is to marry, marry him in 
the name of Mary, and be done ! ” 

“ Nay, he is a brave lad — I know it,” said Lord Foxham. 
“ Content ye, then. Sir Richard. I have compounded this 
affair with Master Hamley, and to-morrow ye shall wed.” 

Whereupon Dick judged it prudent to withdraw ; but 
he was not yet clear of the refectory, when a man, but 
newly alighted at the gate, came running four stairs at a 
bound, and, brushing through the abbey servants, threw 
himself on one knee before the duke. 

“ Victory, my lord,” he cried. 

And before Dick had got to the chamber set apart for 
him as Lord Foxham’s guest, the troops in the holm were 
cheering around their fires ; for upon that same day, not 
twenty miles away, a second crushing blow had been dealt 
to the power of Lancaster. 


CHAPTER Vn. 
dick’s revenge. 

The next morning Dick was afoot before the sun, and 
having dressed himself to the best advantage with the aid 
of the Lord Foxham’s baggage, and got good reports 


THE BLACK ARROW. 


3H 

of Joan, be set forth on foot to walk away his impa. 
tience. 

Fqr some while he made rounds among the soldiery, 
who were getting to arms in the wintry twilight of the 
dawn and by the red glow of torches ; but gradually he 
strolled further afield, and at length passed clean beyond 
the outposts, and walked alone in the frozen forest, waiting 
for the sun. 

His thoughts were both quiet and happy. His brief 
favour w’ith the Duke he could not find it in his heart to 
mourn ; with Joan to wife, and my Lord Foxham for a 
faithful patron, he looked most happily upon the future ; 
and in the past he found but little to regret. 

As he thus stroDed and pondered, the solemn light of 
the morning grew more clear, the east was already coloured 
by the sun, and a little scathing wind blew up the frozen 
snow. He turned to go home ; but even as he turned, 
his eye lit upon a figure behind a tree. 

“ Stand ! ” he cried. “ Who goes ? ” 

The figure stepped forth and waved its hand like a dumb 
person. It was arrayed like a pilgrim, the hood lower- 
ed over the face, but Dick, in an instant, recognized Sir 
Daniel. 

He strode up to him, drawing his sword ; and the 
knight, putting his hand in his bosom, as if to seize a hid- 
den weapon, steadfastly awaited his approach. 

“ Well, Dickon,” said Sir Daniel, “ how is it to be ? Do 
ye wake war upon the fallen ? ” 


dick’b kevknge. 


315 


I made no war upon your life,” replied the lad ; “ I 
was your true friend until ye sought for mine ; but ye 
have sought for it greedily.” 

“Nay— self-defence,” replied the knight. “And now, 
boy, the news of this battle, and the pi*esence of yon 
crooked devil hei’e in mine own wood, have broken me 
beyond all help. I go to Holy wood for sanctuary ; thence 
overseas, with what I can cany, and to begin life again in 
Burgundy or France.” 

“ Ye may not go to Holywood,” said Dick. 

“How ! May not ? ” asked the knight. 

“ Look ye. Sir Daniel, this is my marriage morn,” said 
Dick ; “ and yon sun that is to rise will make the bright- 
est day that ever shone for me. Your life is forfeit — 
doubly forfeit, for my father’s death and your own prac- 
tices to meward. But I myself have done amiss ; I have 
brought about men’s deaths ; and upon this glad day I 
will be neither judge nor hangman. An ye were the devil, 
I would not lay a hand on you. An ye were the devil, ye 
might go where ye will for me. Seek God’s forgiveness ; 
mine ye have freely. But to go on to Holywood is differ- 
ent. I carry arms for York, and I will suffer no spy with- 
in their lines. Hold it, then, for certain, if ye set one foot 
before another, I will uplift my voiqe and call the nearest 
post to seize you.” 

“ Ye mock me,” said Sir Daniel. “ I have no safety out 
of Holywood.” 

“I care no more,” returned Richard. “I let you go 


THE HLAOK AKKOW. 


:'U6 

east, west, or south ; north I will not, Holywood is shut 
against you. Go, and seek not to return. For, once ye 
are gone, I will warn every post about this army, and there 
will be so shrewd a watch upon all pilgrims that, once 
again, were ye the very devil, ye would find it ruin to make 
the essay,” 

“ Ye doom me,” said Sir Daniel, gloomily. 

“I doom you not,” returned Richard, “If it so please 
you to set your valour against mine, come on ; and though 
I fear it be disloyal to my party, I will take the challenge 
openly and fully, fight you with mine own single strength, 
and call for none to help me. So shall I avenge my father, 
with a perfect conscience.” 

“ Ay,” said Sir Daniel, “ y’ have a long sword against 
my dagger.” 

“ I rely upon Heaven only,” answered Dick, casting his 
sword some way behind him on the snow. “Now, if 
your ill-fate bids you, come ; and, under the pleasure of 
the Almighty, I make myself bold to feed your bones to 
foxes.” 

“ I did but try you, Dickon,” returned the knight, with 
an uneasy semblance of a laugh. “ I would not spill yovir 
blood.” 

“ Go, then, ere it be too late,” replied Shelton. “ In 
five minutes I will call the post. I do perceive that I am 
too long-suflfering. Had but our places been reversed, I 
should have been bound hand and foot some minute* 
oast” 


dick’s revenge. 


317 


Well, Dickon, I will go,” replied Sir Daniel “When 
we next meet, it shall repent you that ye were so harsh.” 

And with these words, the knight turned and began to 
move off under the treea Dick watched him with 
strangely-mingled feelings, as he went, swiftly and warily, 
and ever and again turning a wicked eye upon the lad who 
had spared him, and whom he still suspected. 

There was upon one side of where he went a thicket, 
strongly matted with green ivy, and, even in its winter 
state, impervious to the eye. Herein, all of a sudden, a 
bow sounded like a note of music. An arrow flew, and 
with a great, choked cry of agony and anger, the Knight 
of TunstaU threw up his hands and fell forward in the 
snow. 

Dick bounded to his side and raised him. His face des- 
perately worked ; his whole body was shaken by contort- 
ing spasms. 

“ Is the arrow black ? ” he gasped. 

“ It is black,” replied Dick, gravely. 

And then, before he could add one word, a desperate 
seizure of pain shook the wounded man from head to foot, 
so that his body leaped in Dick’s supporting arms, and 
with the extremity of that pang his spirit fled in silence. 

The young man laid him back gently on the snow and 
prayed for that unprepared and guilty spirit, and as he 
prayed the sun came up at a bound, and the robins began 
chirping in the ivy. 

When he rose to his feet, he found another man upon 


318 


THE 6LACS; AKKOW. 


his knees bnt s few steps behind him, and, still with un- 
covered head, he waited until that prayer also should be 
ever. It took long ; the man, with his head bowed and 
his face covered with his hands, prayed like one in a great 
disorder or distress of mind ; and by the bow that lay be- 
side him, Dick judged that he was no other than the archer 
who had laid Sii- Daniel low. 

At length he, also, rose, and showed the countenance of 
Ellis Duckworth. 

“Kichard,” he said, very gravely, “I heard you. Ye 
took the better part and pardoned ; I took the worse, and 
there lies the clay of mine enemy. Pray for me.’* 

And he wrung him by the hand. 

“Sir,” said Richard, “I will pray for you, indeed; 
though how I may prevail I wot not. But if ye have so 
long pursued revenge, and find it now of such a sori-y 
flavour, bethink ye, were it not well to pardon others ? 
Hatch — he is dead, poor shrew ! I -would have spared a 
better ; and for Sir Daniel, here lies his body. But for 
the priest, if I might anywise prevail, I would have you 
let him go.” 

A flash came into the eyes of Ellis Duckworth. 

“ Nay,” he said, “ the devil is still strong within me. 
But be at rest ; the Black Arrow flieth nevermore — the 
fellowship is broken. They that still live shall come to 
their quiet and ripe end, in Heaven’s good time, for me ; 
and for yourself, go where youa* better fortune calls you, 
and think no more of Ellis.” 


COJfCLUSJOl?. 


319 


CHAPTER Vm. 

CONCLUSION. 

About nine in the morning, Xiord Foxham was leading 
his ward, once more dressed as befitted her sex, and fol- 
lowed by Alicia Risingham, to the church of Holy wood, 
when Richard Crookback, his brow already heavy with 
cares, crossed their path and paused. 

“ Is this the maid ? ” he asked ; and when Lord Foxham 
had replied in the affirmative, “ Minion,” he added, “ hold 
up your face until I see its favour.” 

He looked upon her sourly for a little. 

“Ye are fair,” he said at last, “and, as they tell me, 
dowered. How if I offered you a brave marriage, as be- 
came your face and parentage ? ” 

“ My lord duke,” replied Joanna, “may it please your 
grace, I had rather wed with Sir Richard.” 

“ How so ? ” he asked, harshly. “ Marry but the man I 
name to you, and he shall be my lord, and you my lady, 
before night, For Sir Richard, let me tell you plainly, he 
will die Sir Richard.” 

“ I ask no more of Heaven, my lord, than but to die Sir 
Richard’s wife,” returned Joanna. 

“ Look ye at that, my lord,” said Gloucester, turning to 
Lord Foxham. “ Here be a pair for you. The lad, when 
for good services I gave him his choice of my favour, chope 


•320 


THE BLACK AERO'W. 


but the grace of an old, drunken shipman. I did warn 
him freely, but he was stout in his besottedness. ‘ Here 
dieth your favour,’ said I ; and he, my lord, with a most 
assured impertinence, ‘Mine be the loss,’ quoth he. It 
shall be so, by the rood ! ” 

“ Said he so ? ” cried Alicia. “ Then well said, lion* 
driver ! ” 

“ Who is this? ” asked the duke. 

“ A prisoner of Sir Eichard’s,” answered Lord Foxham ; 
“ Mistress Alicia Kisingham.” 

“ See that she be married to a sure man,” said the 
duke. 

“ I had thought of my kinsman, Hamley, an it like your 
grace,” returned Lord Foxham. “ He hath well served the 
cause.” 

“ It likes me well,” said Eichard. “ Let them be wedded 
speedily. Say, fair maid, ■will you wed ? ” 

“ My lord duke,” said Alicia, “ so as the man is straight ” 

And there, in a perfect consternation, the voice died 

on her tongue. 

“He is straight, my mistress,” replied Eichard, calmly. 
“I am the only crookback of my party ; we are else pass- 
ably well shapen. Ladies, and you, my lord,” he added, 
with a sudden change to grave courtesy, “judge me not 
too churlish if I leave you. A captain, in the time of war, 
hath not the ordering of his hours.” 

And with a very handsome salutation he passed on, fol- 
lowed by his officers. 


CONCLUSION. 


321 


“ Alack,” cried Alicia, “ I am shent ! ” 

“ Ye know him not,” replied Lord Foxham. “ It is but 
a trifle ; he hath already clean forgot your words.” 

“He is, then, the very flower of knighthood,” said 
Alicia. 

“Nay, he but mindeth other things,” returned Lord 
Foxham. “Tarry we no more.” 

In the chancel they found Dick waiting, attended by a 
few young men ; and there were he and Joan united. 
When they came forth again, happy and yet serious, into 
the frosty air and sunlight, the long files of the army were 
already winding forward up the road ; already the Duke 
of Gloucester’s banner was unfolded and began to move 
from before the abbey in a clump of spears ; and behind 
it, girt by steel-clad knights, the bold, black-hearted, and 
ambitious hunchback moved on towards his brief kingdom 
and his lasting infamy. But the wedding party turned 
upon the other side, and sat down, with sober merriment, 
to breakfast. The father cellarer attended on their wants, 
and sat with them at table. Hamley, all jealousy forgot- 
ten, began to ply the nowise loth Alicia with courtship. 
And there, amid the sounding of tuckets and the clash of 
armoured soldiery and horses continually moving forth, 
Dick and Joan sat side by side, tenderly held hands, and 
looked, with ever growing affection, in each other’s eyes. 

Thenceforth the dust and blood of that unruly epoch 
passed them by. They dwelt apart from alarms in the 
green forest where their love began. 

21 


THE tiLACE AAfeOW. 


Two old men in the meanwhile enjoyed peheions in great 
prospetity and peace, and with perhaps a superfluity of 
ale and wine, in Tunstall hamlet. One had been all his 
life a shipman, and continued to the bust to lament his man 
Tom. The other, who had been a bit of everything, turned 
in the end towards piety, and made a most religious death 
under the name of Brother HoUestus in the neighbouring 
abbey. So Lawless had his will, and died a friar. 

I 

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